Once More, With Feeling
by Laughing Reaper
Summary: An old spy escapes into the past for a second chance to make a difference. Time travel/fix-it, OotP
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**

 **Chapter 1- I have no mouth and I must scream**

 **?, 2023**

The candle flickered, casting strange shadows over the page. It was the only source of light; there were no scones, for the edges were sharp and tempting, and no windows either, they knew his every secret ability. His remaining fingers, scarred and crooked and old, scraped across the paper with a thin rasp. There was an hourglass in the corner. He could barely hear the hiss of sand coarse against his remaining ear. That there was no sand behind the shattered glass didn't quiet the sound any more than breaking the time-turner had stopped time.

It must have been winter, or else late fall. The cold strained inside his bones and he could feel the damp of a rainstorm outside.

There was a respectful knock at the reinforced door. "Professor? Are you awake?"

He didn't reply. The door creaked open briefly, letting in a gust of air and snuffing the candle out. "Professor?"

Severus' dull black eyes squinted at the bright doorway. His face, wrinkled and ravaged by war, was perfectly blank but his hands shook over the book. Draco shuffled over, lighting the candle again with a casual flick of his wand before hastily stuffing it away in an enchanted holder. They both knew the Dark Master forbade Snape access to any form of weapon even as the spy's sharp mind and quick reflexes deteriorated in the secluded darkness.

His former student sat down slowly, staring at the blazing wick. He cleared his throat after a moment, watching his godfather and prisoner out of the corner of his eye. "Pansy's pregnant again." He smiled weakly, looking for the tiniest glimmer of emotion from the captured spy. Severus opened his mouth, felt the musty air rush over the empty space, and shut it with a defeated click. He watched Draco unblinkingly. The young man coughed into his hand and continued in a tight voice, "Daedalus asked about you, wanted to see his favourite teacher."

They were both silent, but Malfoy could almost, _almost_ hear the professor's sharp retort 'a teacher of death eaters, it seems'. Certainly, he could see the helplessly enraged spark in the older man's eyes. He got to his feet with a mournful sigh, ready to give up, when his lowered gaze drifted over to the book laid open across the desk. _Long distant time-travel, a fanciful thought in the mind of a modern wizard, was a developed skill among the Men in Saffron_ -

"Already?" He asked quietly. Draco loosened the wand holder with frozen, clumsy fingers, wincing slightly as it hit the ground. "If this doesn't work..." The heir voice shook and died. Snape's stony eyes softened minutely. Draco could lose everything.

Draco drew in a deep breath and left without looking back, locking the door behind him.

A faint smile floated to the surface of Severus' impassive face as he hobbled over and scooped it up. He wouldn't have much time and no more chances. Too much was at stake.

* * *

Severus came back to himself slowly, in bits and pieces. First, was he injured? Ten fingers and eight toes wiggled obediently, a higher number than he had gone to sleep with. Muscles tightened and relaxed, some of which he knew had been torn out years ago. The simple taste of sleep souring his tongue was enough to trigger a wave of emotion that he barely managed to choke back.

Next, was he alone? Hearing that had decayed under an onslaught of screams and curses jumped to attention, filtering out the sound of his own heart-beat and breathing. Complete silence.

The last question was the most important; where was he? Severus risked opening one eye a sliver, knowing the lashes would hide his black gaze, and glanced cautiously around. He was in bed, in his old Hogwart's quarters that he had last seen crumbling in a blaze of Fiendfyre. The walls were blank, the floor bare, the furniture lacking and in need of repair; yes, it was home.

Severus opened both eyes fully and clutched at his bedding with miraculously straight fingers, swallowing hard while his watery gaze locked on the stone ceiling. It took a few minutes to gather himself enough to rise, still clinging to his blankets like a frightened child, and stumble into the bathroom. The light was aching in his mind, though the actual physical eyes were used to it and Snape stomped down the urge to crawl into a spare cubby, wrapped up in the blanket. Soundless night had a way of rubbing off on a person.

The potions master stepped up to the mirror. His skin was still pale and unhealthy, but it seemed like porcelain after the ghastly mug he had grown reluctantly used to. His hair, though greasy, wasn't shorn down to his skull or shot through with grey and save for the familiar bulk of his badly broken nose, Severus' face was largely free of scars. He leaned closer to the reflection, watching the grey fog spread under his breath, searching his eyes for a hint of the torture, years spent wasting away in isolation, filled with spite and fury and regret. His body was disrespectfully hale.

Severus lifted one spindly hand, clenched tight under the blanket, and shattered the mirror. Glass shards tore apart the material and scattered dangerously around his bare feet.

He stood in the bathroom for several seconds, breathing hard, jaw tight, before stepping carelessly through the mess and back to his bed. His wand was under his pillow, just like it always was in the golden days. It felt like the handshake of an old friend, but squirmed unhappily in his tight grip. He cast _tempus_ wordlessly and the wand reluctantly obeyed; it wasn't his anymore, the spy had changed too much. He would need a new wand.

 **6:13 AM, August 7, 1995**

Severus had gone back almost thirty years. Not far enough to save Lily or stop the Dark Master's return, but far enough to win the War. He got dressed hastily, cleaning the blood from his feet with a forceful swish and shoved on dragon-hide boots. He had lost all feeling in his hands and feet from years of Cruciatus curse but the pain in his toes reminded him that the damage wasn't as extensive yet.

Severus was almost to the door, feverish at the thought of seeing Albus, Minerva, Fillius, even the dratted, long-dead dunderheads, when he realised that he couldn't even remember half the children, never mind his schedule, small recent events, who he had been quarreling with- He sat on his couch, staring out into the distance. This wouldn't be easy.

He summoned a piece of parchment, quill, and inkpot wandlessly and quickly jotted down;

 _1995\. Umbridge, DA group, Ministry attack, Black dies._

Snape tapped the quill against the pot, revealing in the steadiness of his hands. The past was more important to remember at the moment, so he drew a line through the sentence and continued.

 _1994\. Dark Mas-_

He hissed impatiently and crossed out the word. It hadn't happened yet.

 _Dark Lord returns. Diggory dies. HQ at Grimmauld._

He looked over it a few times. Yes, that seemed like the basics. He could blame not recalling who won Quidditch or some nonsense on his anti-social nature. He remembered something else,

 _Albus wants Potter to learn Legilimency._ _Potter is still a brat._

He underlined the last part several times. Before, they had developed a grudging respect for each other's skill and determination, even when it seemed they were on opposite sides. One of his greatest regrets was that Potter had died thinking he was the only Order member left, the last man standing. There was a pocket of resistance in Whales, hidden by a Secret Keeper. Severus had been discovered four years after Potter's death, almost immediately following the Whales group's discovery.

Severus read the short list several times before crumpling it up and burning it with a thought. Separation from both his tongue and his wand made silent wandless spells second-nature. He had the thread when it came to the past, or so he hoped, but Snape wasn't sure what to do now. What was the most important task? _Destroy the Dark M-Lord_ , he thought firmly, _keep everyone alive, if possible. Albus and Potter, at the very least_.

His floo chimed, nearly sending the time-traveler into panic. The name Minerva McGonagall flashed in red over the dead fireplace. It could have been worse; it could have been Albus.

The Legilimens slammed his walls firmly into place. They, at least, had only grown stronger with age, and a wizard's magic was more closely tied to the mind than the body. After checking his mental defenses thoroughly, Severus answered the floo call.

Minerva's head appeared in the swirling flames, fierce and _alive._ The spy bit down on the inside of his cheek. It had been a nasty curse that took the old lioness down, a flesh devouring spell that started at the toes and _worked its way up_ -

"Severus?" The feline animagus said, looking concerned. Snape got the impression that she had called his name a few times. "Are you alright?"

The potions master opened his mouth to reply and hesitated instinctively. "Yes," He stated without inflection. "You.. woke me up." His voice was foreign and rough to his ears, and he caught himself pausing mid-sentence to listen with surreal fascination. How long had it been since he last talked? Before Daedalus was born, four, eight, _ten years? Ten years_ since he lost his tongue? "Is something wrong?"

Minerva squinted skeptically at the spy through the flames. "Harry Potter's hearing has been scheduled. It's on the 12th."

The hearing! He had almost forgotten about that. Hadn't he refused to act as guard detail? _The Dementors,_ he remembered. _Never could stand them._ They were a favourite tool of the Dark Lord's and Severus had been unable to summon a patronus since the death of the Headmaster. "Did you need me?"

The witch was definitely suspicious now. Severus Snape was never helpful. "Are you sure you're not sick, Severus?" She asked kindly.

"If you don't need me," Snape sneered coldly, "I am returning to bed." Minerva perked up immediately. That was more like the snarky young potions master she knew.

"Albus has asked you to be a guard during the trial. The won't convict, they can't," she assured him confidently, "but just in case..."

"I am to act as a scapegoat then? Grab the brat and run when they want to slap his wrist?"

" _Azkaban_ is no slap on the wrist!" Minerva snapped angrily. "Unless you are a death eater, that is!" Severus bowed his head slightly. It was a low blow, they both knew it. He must have stepped over the line, he thought mournfully. It had been too long. Through the comforting curtain of his hair, he saw McGonagall flinch guiltily. "Ah'm sorry, Severus." She apologetically sighed. "Ah did'n' mean that." Strange, the things that he had once hardly noticed were suddenly important. Minerva's Scottish accent always thickened when she was upset, like how Lily's Southern and his Irish ones popped up when they argued.

"I'll attend," Severus pretended to sound reluctant and annoyed. "After all, you never can know when a death eater will pop up disguised as an owl." His lips twitched slightly.

Minerva smiled, amused and relieved. "Don't give them any ideas! The hearing is at 9 am. I'll tell Albus you agreed." The flames vanished abruptly and Snape fell back onto his couch like his strings had been cut. Ten minutes with Minerva had him feeling like a wrung-out sock, how would he be able to face Potter, never mind Albus?

Severus rubbed his wand, drawing strength from the familiar grooves and bumps. He had a few days to recover. He would make it count.

* * *

The first thing the time-traveling spy did was buy a new wand. Blackthorn wood, twelve-and a-quarter-inches, the bones of a Joint-eater as a core. Ollivander had actually shuddered when he handed it over to the disguised wizard. "A very dark wand," he had muttered worriedly. "One that consumes." He hadn't even said what it was particularly good for but Severus had gotten the idea and it didn't bother him in the least. He was used to the dark, unicorn horn and phoenix feathers were no use to him.

The old wand he kept tucked in his left holster, covering the Dark Mark. Most of the staff knew he was dominantly left-handed, it would raise less questions if the blackthorn wand was found in his right holder. In any case, he could fight just as well with his right hand as his left.

New wand in hand, Severus thought about changing his role in the war. The old man wanted him as a spy, but Severus was bone-weary of watching and observing. He wanted to _fight_. Repressed wrath simmered constantly below his skin, roaring in his ears, licking at his walls and demanding to be released. Last time, the wizard had made it as far as Albus' death before killing someone. That innocence was gone. The only thing stopping Severus from burning alive men that he had seen torture, rape and kill helpless muggles was the weight of Dumbledore's disapproval. What the old warlock didn't know, however, could hardly hurt him. In this case, at least.

Severus would work with the Order of the Phoenix in secret, as he always had, but for once as a warrior and equal. For that, he needed a name. From the depths of half-remembered, treasured memories, a name rose up. Cúchulainn.

Why not? In his youth, before Tobias even knew about magic or began to hate his family for it, the legend of Cúchulainn had been Severus' favourite bedtime story. His father would sit them down on the threadbare couch, wrapped up against the early morning winter chill in a moth-eaten blanket, and tell his little boy the legends of his own childhood. After his falling out with Lily, the memory of his father weaving the beloved tale had become Snape's patronus memory, which in turn was replaced by a quiet Christmas dinner with the staff after the old bastard's death.

Cúchulainn, Severus mouthed the words to himself over and over during the night, not daring to speak in the darkness. _Cúchulainn._

It wasn't accurate, but that was the point. Who would associate mean-hearted, ugly, aggressive Snivellus with the legendary Irish hero?

There would be no attack in early August, if Severus recalled, but it would be wise for Cúchulainn to contact the Order sooner rather than later. _After the hearing,_ he thought. The spy would find a reason.

During the days before the hearing, Severus trained. His body was quick and skilled, but not up to par with the grace and control Snape had achieved in battle before being caught. His mind, too, needed sharpening, and long hours were spent in the Come-and-Go room, dueling summoned creatures. Nights he spent carefully weaving his Occlumency walls into a fortress that couldn't even be seen from the outside.

It was a better prepared but very nervous spy that woke early in the morning of August 12th. Potter was released, he remembered that much, but the thought of seeing Albus again wound Severus up tightly. He couldn't even wait until 9 for the trial and hurried to the Ministry at quarter to 8.

* * *

Severus stepped gracefully out of the floo. He still marveled at how easy it was to move again, time and pain sliding off his body. The mind fared worse, but you can't have everything. He allowed the young wizard to confiscate his wand, the old one, and reluctantly return it after jotting down its notable features.

"Here on business, Professor?" The security wizard asked, an odd mix of meek and irritated. It took Severus a moment to reply, he wasn't used to speaking again yet. It took even longer to recognize the man. A former student, Gryffindor.

"Yes, Mr. Tiller, I am." Snape said flatly. The boy shrunk away at the emotionless tone, refusing to meet the potions master's eyes. "Where is the Potter Disciplinary Hearing taking place?"

Tiller bit his lip rebelliously for a moment before years of engraved obedience won over bloody-mindedness. "Courtroom 10, sir. It's starting in a few minutes."

Severus hid his confusion and silently cast _tempus_. **7:51 AM, August 12, 1995**. From Tiller's wide eyed look, he had forgotten to use his wand.

"I was under the impression the hearing would begin at nine." The spy stated curtly. Tiller fluttered a few papers desperately just to make him look competent before shaking his head.

"No sir. Says here 8, sir."

Severus spun abruptly on his heels, striding quickly towards the courtrooms. He could remember where they were. He had been on trial before. He was nearly through the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office when he spotted a head of flaming orange hair. A Weasley. Arthur, probably. The sight sent an unexpected lance of pain through him. Though never close enough to consider him a friend, Snape had quite liked Arthur and spent more than a few evenings in Grimmuald playing chess. The snake had eaten him. He remembered giving Molly an anonymous note himself and later staying to watch the funeral in disguise as a useless punishment for failing the willful mother.

Arthur looked up and caught sight of the potions master. "Professor Snape," he called excitedly, waving him over. Severus' feet carried him to the other man's desk almost against his will. "What brings you here?"

"The hearing," Severus answered indifferently. "The time and place have been moved. Courtroom 10 in five minutes."

Arthur's face paled and he leapt to his feet. "Oh dear, oh- we'd better hurry, Harry."

It was a struggle to keep his face blank as Snape turned his head to face Potter. The boy was torn between looking mulish, worried, and grateful. Severus looked away quickly. It wasn't the same Potter that had once faced Severus in battle and taken his old professor's left ear with a well-placed blasting curse. This Potter was still stuck with dreaming about fighting his hated teacher.

"Well, are you coming?" Arthur's slightly teasing question shook Severus back to the present. The spy nodded briskly and quickly overtook the redhead, leading the way. His trial had been in Courtroom 7, most Dark Arts hearings did. Ten wouldn't be hard to find.

Severus tried to keep himself from watching Potter out of the corner of his eye. The teenager walked with his head low, unruly hair blocking his green eyes, hands tucked into his pocket. Holding his wand, if he had an ounce of sense. He kept comparing the ruthless but weary young man to the awkward, angry boy. The other Potter wouldn't have gone to a hearing; it was far too easy for the Dark Master to ambush him. He would know better than to look at his feet when he walked, especially in the presence of a known Death Eater. He wouldn't keep his wand in his pocket either as it could get caught in his clothes in the heat of battle. _This kid needs training_ , Snape thought wryly. _Desperately_.

The Potions Master stood aside as the reached the door. He and Arthur would be in the stands, Potter would be alone.

"It'll be fine, Harry." The redhead reassured the boy quickly, patting his shoulder fondly. Potter nodded glumly, eyeing the door under the unruly fringe of black hair. Arthur gave the child one last concerned smile before slipping away to join the stands.

Potter was silent for a moment before glaring up at Snape. "I know you're just here to see me get expelled, _sir_." Potter spat bitterly.

Severus looked down at the boy dispassionately. "I have no reason to lie or attempt to coddle you, Potter, so trust me when I say they won't expel you." The student glanced at him, surprised, and Severus cursed the gentleness age had lent him. "Unfortunately. I am sure you will pull some stunt worthy of expulsion soon, however." He tossed in a contemptuous frown and watched Potter bristle. _That's the first thing we will work on_ , Severus thought. Teach the boy some damn patience and how to hide his emotions. It was a good foundation for the Mind Arts.

The massive courtroom door swung open silently at a swish of Snape's old wand. "Best get it over with, Potter." His skin crawled at the blast of cold air but the Dementors were well hidden. In the rafters, likely, skulking above the despondent accused. Severus caught a glimpse of a boar patronus patrolling the stands before the door swept shut behind Potter.

Snape allowed himself a few moments to focus on his breathing and control the rising black tide of despair brought on by the Dementors. He fumbled with his wand a moment, suddenly stiff and cold.

 _"Severus, my most loyal servant."_

Severus felt a steel band close over his chest, cutting his breaths into painful gasps.

 _"We may now begin."_

 _He knelt slowly, feeling the ache of all his fifty-two years rattle through his bones as he pressed his chapped lips to the Dark Master's robe hem. An elegant hand caressed the back of his head. Severus ruthlessly wrestled down the urge to shudder in disgust and rose to take his place with the others. They didn't wear masks anymore. There was no-one left to oppose them._

 _The Dark Master smiled handsomely at his gathered followers. He had fixed his snake-like face to celebrate the defeat of Potter. He gestured grandly to a cowering halfblood and the slave scurried eagerly out of the hall._

 _"Some among you have earned a reward," The Dark Master purred smoothly. The Death Eaters shuffled, eyeing each-other up. One word from their Lord would send the entire group into a writhing mess of blood and spells for the honour of the 'reward'. "Lucius, Bellatrix, Severus, step forwards." The battlelust drained immediately from the wizards and witches._

 _Severus smoothed the surface of his mind, willing forth the ancient admiration and loyalty he fostered as a teenager. The three high ranking Death Eaters bowed at their master as the halfblood returned leading a line of prisoners. It was two witches and a wizard. Severus felt his blood turn to ice as he recognized the muggleborns; Colin Creevey, Penelope Clearwater and Hermione Granger. He had taught them all a lifetime ago. They had finally been caught._

 _Creevey was given to Bellatrix, Clearwater to Lucius and Granger, as he had guessed she would be, was given to Severus._

 _"Impress me." The Dark Master said with a fatherly smile._

 _Snape shut his ears to the wailing of Creevey and Clearwater, staring down his crooked nose at Granger. She glared defiantly at him, her young face filled with terror and pain but she remained standing, meeting his eyes without fear. Severus raised his wand with a struggle, mind racing. Bellatrix predictably had opened with the Cruciatus curse, but the Potions Master wouldn't be able to summon the hatred for that. He knew a spell that increased the rate their blood used up oxygen, boiling and suffocating them from the inside out. It would be sufficiently showy and not take too long._

 _Severus tightened his grip on the wand and prepared to say the incantation. Granger's glare faltered and she didn't quite manage to stop her fearful gasp. The wand tip trembled for a moment before lowering._

 _Severus couldn't do it._

 _He thought of everything that was going to waste; all those deaths, all the blood on his hands, decades spent spying, all for a clever muggleborn like Lily that would be killed anyway. He still couldn't bring himself to raise his wand again._

 _"Kill the mudblood, Severus." The Dark Master ordered coldly._

 _"No." Severus whispered. Granger's eyes widened in realization and hope._

 _"Professo-" Her face was frozen forever in a hopeful expression as Lucius' killing curse slammed into her._

 _The hall was completely silent. Severus swayed where he stood, gaze locked on the dead muggleborn's collapsed body. Even the Dark Master was thrown for a moment._

 _"Grab him." He murmured flatly. Lucius pressed his wand against Severus' head. Bellatrix aimed deviously lower. "Draco Malfoy will be in charge of the prisoner, Lucius, as a reward for your services today. Make sure he knows the importance of this task."_

 _"Yes, my Master."_

 _"Bellatrix."_

 _The witch needed no further instruction._

* * *

Severus forced the memory back under his shields and shook himself. He could hear voices in the courtroom and was relieved to find he was still standing. Little time seemed to have past.

" _Expecto Patronum_." He whispered, nearly inaudible even to himself, thinking about a pair of thick green wool socks with little wiggly silver snakes that Albus had given him his seventh year teaching. A shivery streak of light rose from his old wand. A second year could do better, but it was enough to drive off the lingering chill.

He made his shaky way over to the stands entrance and ducked into the shadows, letting his eyes sweep over the courtroom as a distraction. Potter was sitting in the chair, fortunately unchained, glaring up at Fudge. He was pale but defiant and angry. Albus was next to him in a comfortable armchair and Severus quickly looked away. Percy Weasley was studiously jotting down notes, nose nearly pressed to his parchment. He spotted Umbridge and felt a rush of loathing. He would have to deal with her soon.

Severus hesitantly glanced back to Albus. The old man looked tired, and the Potions Master was rather surprised by the distance Dumbledore was putting between himself and the boy. Had that happened last time?

"Weasley, fetch the witness." Fudge commanded. Percy leapt to his feet and hurriedly let Figg in. Snape vaguely recognized the squib from his lonely patrols of Little Whinging over the summers before Albus' death.

"Full name?" The Minister asked.

"Arabella Doreen Figg, resident of Little Whinging." Figg replied tightly, holding her bag close to her chest. Severus couldn't imagine what it felt like for a squib to be in a wizard's courtroom, knowing you had no political weight or magical defenses.

The Potions Master let the hearing wash over him without paying it much mind, searching the room for anything suspicious or the Dementors. He thought he spotted Lucius' pale head in the crowd and turned his attention back to the trial.

"I-I felt them." Mrs. Figg was whispering. "It was horrible... like I would never be happy again."

The room suddenly felt far colder and Severus glanced up at the ceiling again, expecting to see a dark corner turn into tattered cloth.

"Very well. You may go." Fudge said, disappointed. Potter had lost some of his nervousness, perking up in the chair. Albus, like Severus, was watching the shadows. He spotted his spy lurking in the murkiness and smiled grandfatherly, though his blue eyes didn't sparkle as they normally would. "Not very convincing," Fudge muttered as the squib shuffled proudly out of the room.

"Oh, I disagree. She described their effects very complete." Bones argued. Bones was a capable witch, Severus remembered. Her niece was attending Hogwarts now, wasn't she?

"So two Dementors just happen to be in Little Whinging? I think not." Protested Fudge stiffly.

"Only if the Dementors are still taking their orders from the Ministry these days." Albus countered firmly. "I believe you know my views on this, Cornelius."

The Minister straightened and glared down his nose at the Headmaster. "Yes, and they're nothing but bilge, Dumbledore."

 _Hem, hem_.

Severus closed his eyes for a moment and summoned his patience. Umbridge stood and spoke in a high, aggravating voice; "Excuse me, Dumbledore, but did you just accuse the Ministry of Magic of ordering an attack on this boy?" She laughed incredulously.

Dumbledore raised his head with confidence, leveling a not unkind blue gaze on the bright pink Ministry official. "If the Dementors are taking their orders from the Ministry exclusively, then it must certainly follow logically that someone in the Ministry ordered the attack." He didn't look at Severus, didn't look at him so pointedly that Severus got the feeling Albus was watching him. "And in that case, I'm sure the Ministry will make a full inquiry."

 _Ah, you mean_ _ **you**_ _will make a full inquiry,_ the spy thought sarcastically.

"The dementors are irrelevant!" Fudge snapped, nearly rising from his seat.

"On the contrary, Cornelius!" Albus raised his voice sharply, just shy of shouting. "If they were there, than Harry was acting in self-defense, which is perfectly allowable under Clause 7 of the Decree of Reasonable Restriction of Underaged Magic." His wise burning eyes swept powerfully over the gathered crowd. "We are all in agreement of this?"

"Well, yes, if he's telling the truth!" Fudge nearly wailed back in exasperation before paling abruptly. He had just agreed before the jury. It didn't matter what he had agreed to, the people would fix in their minds that ground had been lost by the Minister. Severus nearly chuckled at the deviousness of Albus.

Dumbledore leaned back slightly in his chair, smiling slightly. "You have heard from the eye-witnesses, Cornelius." He folded his wrinkled hands patiently over his lap, looking for all the world like he had just finished scolding a troublesome student.

Fudge swelled like an angry cat, but he knew when he was beat. "Very well," he ground out, "all for clearing the accused of charges?" Over half the room lifted their hands high, avoiding the Minister's annoyed gaze. Fudge brought the gavel down with more force than necessary. "Fine! Cleared of all charges!"

The echoes of the gavel had barely faded away before Albus was on his feet, banishing his chair and sweeping grandly out of the courtroom door. The Headmaster cast a subtle glance to the shadows at the stand's entrance and Severus obediently slipped soundlessly out. He was reasonable certain it was without being seen as Potter was exchanging glowering looks with Umbridge and everyone else were discussing the hearing.

Severus crept into an empty corridor adjacent to the courtroom hall and waited nervously for Albus to join him. He Occluded his mind, meticulously drawing every emotion from his face and double-checked that every incriminating memory was banked safely. At least he could no longer feel the presence of the hidden Dementor.

Albus stepped into the hallway, hands tucked up his sleeves. Snape tried to breath shallowly but he could still smell sugar and smoke and citrus, making his eyes sting fiercely. Somehow, even when the memory of his old mentor's kind voice, gentle touch and twinkling eyes faded, Severus always recalled the wise wizard's overpoweringly sweet odor with clarity.

"Severus?" Dumbledore touched Severus' shoulder worriedly. "Are you alright, my boy?"

The Potions Master looked at the _healthy_ hand for a few seconds, unable to think. "Yes." He whispered roughly. "I- I apologize, Headmaster. I seem to be coming down with a cold." The excuse sounded flimsy to him, and he couldn't inject any emotion into his voice. He couldn't remember how to. "What was it you wished to speak about?"

Albus scrutinized his spy doubtfully but dropped the matter for the moment. "What do you know about the Dementor attack, Severus?"

Snape cursed inside the sanctity of his head. What did he remember of an attack thirty years ago? "Only what I can guess, sir." Severus replied respectfully.

Albus looked nearly alarmed now. He reached for Severus' forehead, hesitating at the man's instinctive flinch, and checked his temperature. "I think you need to have a lay-down, Severus." The Headmaster stated with a touch of authority. "Perhaps a check-up with Poppy, as well?"

Severus felt well and truly lost. Had he said something wrong? How did he used to treat Albus? He knew he always held Albus in the highest esteem and had the greatest affection for him that he'd ever had for anyone. "I believe the Dark Lord was behind this attack," the Potions Master stated bluntly, "or one of his followers."

Albus frowned but appeared slightly reassured by Snape's frankness. "You don't think it was someone within the Ministry?"

"It is possible, but not as likely." Severus glanced up and down the halls to avoid looking at the Headmaster. "We know he is back and has no further reason to keep Potter alive. If the boy is Kissed, the people will lose faith in the Ministry and panic will spread."

Dumbledore nodded, still watching Snape closely. He squeezed the other wizard's shoulder comfortingly. "Thank you for coming, my boy. I know how the Dementors affect you. I'm proud of you."

Severus cleared his throat, refusing to meet Albus' eyes. "Anything else?" He rasped.

Albus released Severus and scratched his beard. "Now that you mention it, yes. Harry needs training in the Mind Arts, and I can think no-one better than yourself."

This is the best chance you'll get, Snape thought. "I can. I fought a man in Ireland before I began spying. His Legilimens shields are the strongest I've seen, and he moved like a snake in battle. He has an intense hatred of the Dark Lord and his followers. I do not believe he would betray you or Potter."

"Are you sure? That was fifteen years ago, my boy!"

"I am. He was protecting the Hill of Tara against Dark Wizards, it is possible he is still there."

"What if he attacks you?"

"Send Lupin," Severus said without thought and had to hide his wince. "He is an Animus Augur. I believe that is why he did not kill me when we fought, though I doubt he would do so again. It is perhaps best if we do not meet again. Loathe as I am to admit it, Lupin wears his heart on his sleeve and despite his _little problem_ will cause less issues." He held his breath at the magnitude of the lie. Animus Augurs were able to discern the soul of another person almost immediately. They made for natural masters of Occlumency and Legilimency. Daedalus Malfoy had been particularly quick at the Mind Arts. Severus had some ability in seeing the magic of others that had been developed and strengthened through necessity, but he knew he was no Augur.

"An Animus Augur?" Albus echoed, stunned and impressed. "Yes, yes, perhaps that would be best. I will send Remus to the Hill of Tara soon. Harry can begin training before the school year starts." The Headmaster smiled fondly at the professor. "Please, get some rest, Severus. I will Floo if anything happens."

Severus bows and eagerly hurried away. _It could have been worse,_ he repeated to himself. _It could have been worse._

* * *

Severus did rest, after he was done warding the Hill of Tara. He set up an alarm to warn him if a werewolf crossed them. When he was done, he doused every light in his rooms, wrapped himself into a blanket, and curled up in a niche between two stuffed bookcases and an end table with a boiling cup of tea. He had trouble sleeping in the open with light on his face.

He dozed most the night like that, occasionally rousing enough to take another sip of tea and reassure himself that the rooms were empty.

When his internal clock said the sun was up, Severus crawled out of the corner and got ready for the day. He read over all of his recent notes and schedule plans, reviewed the students attending and who had graduated in the last three years. He scanned every letter he kept in ten years, flipped through some of his books for scribbles in the margins. Snape even dug out the Pensive Albus gave him for his thirtieth birthday and dug up every memory of the summer of '95 that were intact.

Two days into his extensive recollection, the wards went off. Severus slipped on a silver ring engraved with a running hound and felt the enchantment settling over him like a cloak. He checked his reflection in the mirror.

Severus looked to be in his mid-fifties, a decade younger than his mental age, with dull brown hair liberally shot through with grey cropped close to his ears. His hooked nose was inflated and shortened into a bulbous, slightly squashed shape. His black eyes had been lightened into a silvery blue and were set farther apart while his sharp, angular head had turned round and solid with faded scars. The illusion would hold as long as he wore the ring. It doubled as an emergency Portkey, a back-up to his other hidden ones.

Before he left, Severus quickly rubbed lemon grass over his arms and neck. It would drown out his natural smell, he knew. He had used it during raids to keep Greyback or his mutts from tracking him down. He hadn't started using the trick until after Dumbledore's death so he could be reasonably certain the Order wouldn't know that particular tactic.

Snape Floo'd to Knockturn Alley and Apperated to the Hill of Tara from there, arriving with a near silent _crack_. He was at the Mound of the Hostages, he saw. Lupin was laying against the slop, sharp nose twitching. Severus took a moment to observe the werewolf. He looked much the same as he had the last time the time-traveler had seen him; beat to hell, scruffy as a stray dog, and hopelessly optimistic, even when simply lying back, watching the clouds. It was easier to see Lupin. They had never been friends, and Severus hadn't seen his fall personally, only heard word of it. He never ran missions during the full moon.

The wind changed and Lupin's head rose. He caught a glimpse of Severus lurking in the falling dusk and scrambled to his feet, grinning hopefully and amiably. "Hullo?" He called, shuffling towards him nervously. His amber eyes fixed nervously on the silver ring.

Severus drew himself to his full imposing height, eyeing Lupin closely. The werewolf must have been told about his 'Augur abilities' and remained still, looking straight ahead, as Snape circled him.

"Why are you here?" Severus asked softly, thickening his Irish brogue. It had been awhile since he had sounded so much like his father. The purebloods in his house had scolded him for his 'muggle filth accent' and corrected it completely by the time he was sixteen.

Lupin bowed formally, subtly baring his neck to the taller wizard. "Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, sent me to ask your services." He answered hesitantly. "Harry Potter needs training in the Mind Arts and a member of our order recommended you."

"Who." Severus stopped behind the werewolf, leaning in intimidatingly.

Remus wrestled with himself for a moment before sighing deeply. "I'm sorry, sir. I can't tell you that." Severus was reluctantly impressed with Lupin's loyalty before remembering that Albus probably told him to keep it secret. He raised his head slightly but didn't turn around to face Snape. "If I may ask... What is your name, sir?"

"Cúchulainn." The words drifted into the night like a breath of wind. Lupin shivered and bowed his head again. Snape could see the hairs on the back of his neck rising and was surprised at the effect the twilight and a mysterious stranger had on a Gryffindor. He had never commanded such respect from _anyone_.

"Lord Cúchulainn," Lupin spoke deferentially to his feet. Severus twitched slightly at the term but didn't correct it. The title would help keep distance between himself and the other members, decreasing the likelihood someone would figure him out. "On behalf of the Order of the Phoenix, I respectfully beg your assistance against the Dark Lord Voldemort." The werewolf held his breath.

"Very well." Severus replied simply. He noticed Remus' shoulders tense in surprise and smirked to himself. He pressed an Irish pound coin into Lupin's hand. "Speak my name, I will answer." Snape had no shame in stealing Granger's idea. A spy who didn't use every tool available to him didn't live long.

He twirled on the spot and Apparated away with a louder _crack_ than he normally would allow. No use revealing all of his abilities right away.

Severus appeared in the Forbidden Forest after two pointless jumps to throw off any tag-alongs. He paused under the thick trees, breathing in the sharp twilight air and listening to unseen creatures crawl through the undergrowth. Collecting his thoughts, Severus emptied his mind and focused on the smells of night. He pictured his body shrinking and twisting, sprouting feathers and scaly feet. It was easy to imagine his hooked nose curving into a short beak. With a soft pop and a dizzying moment of disorientation, a large black Great Horned Owl stood in the Potions Master's place.

Severus clumsily hopped several times and labored himself into the air. He pumped his wings powerfully, rising above the trees into the open air. He enjoyed the sting of cool late summer wind pulling at the tufts on his head and swirling over his broad back as he skirted the dead-drops of cold air and caught the weak cooling updrafts. He circled the Owlery for nearly an hour, watching the stars crawl across the sky.

He reluctantly landed and removed the ring. Severus slunk unseen down to the dungeons, running his thumb over the silver hound compulsively.

* * *

 **Animus Augur is not a real thing. Feel free to use it.**

 **I used HPL: Calendar: OP to organize events and dates. They can be ignored.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2-There's nothing so bad that it couldn't be worse**

 **August 15**

Severus was summoned as Cúchulainn ten days after he had arrived back in the past. He effortlessly hid his nervousness and excitement under the steely facade of the greying Cúchulainn. Severus paused outside of 12 Grimmauld Place and made a point of looking up and down the decrepit row of houses. He fixed an expression of annoyed puzzlement on his stoic mask and avoided letting his eyes linger on the Headquarters windows. He spotted several freckled Weasley faces pressed curiously against the glass.

Snape pretended to allow a sliver of surprise slip onto his face as Lupin stepped out of the building, hand extended with a friendly smile. Severus stiffly shook the werewolf's hand, mindful to avoid letting the silver ring touch him.

"It's good to see you again, Lord Cúchulainn." Lupin cleared his throat and looked straight at the open door. "The Order of the Phoenix HQ is at 12 Grimmauld Place, London." Severus recalled the memory of when he first saw the building appear and slid his eyes along the same path they had thirty years ago, looking grudgingly impressed.

Lupin invited him in, talking in a low voice to avoid waking Mrs. Black. "This house belongs to the Black family, it's protected by the Fidelius, Notice-Me-Not wards, has a secure Floo-"

"Apparition?" Severus asked in a soft Irish brogue.

"Only from the outside in. Albus wants a quick escape in case of siege."

"Anti-warding?" Snape traced the molding on the top of the hallway. _Set up runes_ , he thought. _More extensive_ _than anchors, can cover more area._

"I, I don't know what that is, sir." Remus wrinkled his forehead slightly.

"An attacker can set up an Anti-Apparition to prevent escape," Severus replied quietly, bouncing slightly up and down on his dragonhide boots, "and burn this place down with Fiendfyre. It is possible to disrupt new wards without effecting the old ones." The wood was old but well made, creaking atmospherically. The closer to the wall, the less noise. He subtly angled his heel to the wall and drifted silently beside the werewolf.

Lupin paled and chewed his bottom lip but Snape wasn't done. "Wards for owls and House Elves?" Lupin shook his head miserably. "Summoned or transfigured creatures? What is to stop someone from slipping a dangerous animal in?" He couldn't resist adding, "Demons, Lethifolds, werewolves?" Severus didn't turn his head but felt a hazy mix of ancient satisfaction and shining new guilt at the sharp intake of breath from Lupin.

"I'll..." Remus murmured in a tiny voice. "I'll talk to Albus after the meeting." He held the dining room door open for Snape, looking down.

Severus paused in the doorway and sighed. "Voldemort likely has werewolf allies." He stated briefly. "Set up a hidden anchor at the ends of the road on a moon-based cycle. It will only affect those coming in." Lupin's chin lifted but he still couldn't meet the taller wizard's eyes and just smiled at the floor as Severus stepped past him.

Cúchulainn entered the room, grizzled face a stone veneer as he quickly surveyed the Order. Albus sat at the head of the table, Mad-Eye Moody at his left and Minerva at his right. Arthur Weasley, a few of his older spawn, Black, Diggle, Doge, Fletcher, Jones, Shacklebolt, and Tonks were sitting around the long narrow table, talking. By the heavenly smell coming from the kitchen, Snape guessed that Molly had nearly finished cooking. They all fell silent at his and Lupin's entrance. Severus' sharp eyes spotted a suspicious knot in the wood above the doorway into the second hall and had no doubt half a dozen children were listening avidly on the other end of an extendable ear.

Albus stood gracefully, bowing at the middle. His long white beard nearly knocked over the closest glass of water and Severus stamped down the irrational urge to chuckle. It was a farce, he knew, but an amusing one. "Please, join us." He gestured to two empty seats between Tonks and Shacklebolt. "As you know, my friends, Lord Cúchulainn is an Animus Augur who has agreed to train Harry in the Mind Arts." There was a scattering of introductions and greetings. "Lord Cúchulainn, we greatly appreciate you lending us your services."

Severus tilted his head in acknowledgement, holding himself up proudly. Moody was eyeing him, but Snape knew how to fool his fake eye and didn't worry about being discovered. "When do I begin?" He inquired in his father's accent.

"Immediately, if you'd like. Harry is just upstairs." Dumbledore twinkled at him. "We have just finished our meeting, dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

Severus felt a flicker of annoyance and allowed it to spread across his face like ink. "I will meet the boy now. We can start tomorrow at eight."

Albus frowned, disappointed. "You won't be staying for dinner?" He asked with a touch of dismay.

"No." Severus stood and Tonks jumped to her feet as though on cue.

"I'll take you to Harry." She said cheerfully, grabbing his arm. Snape tensed but didn't pull away, permitting the young Metamorphmagus to drag him out to the second doorway. His ears twitched at the muffled sound of frantic scrambling and he caught a glimpse of a worn sneaker vanishing up the stairs as Tonks swung the door open.

Tonks enthusiastically pulled him up the stairs, chatting the entire time. "It's good of you to help us, sir. I know Harry'll be grateful and won't give you lip!" Severus mentally snorted. "This's his room. Should I wait out here 'n' lead you back to the entrance when you're done?" Tonks beamed at the wizard, waiting patiently for an answer.

"I can make my own way out." Severus grumbled. "Thank you." He opened the door and entered the bedroom before Tonks could reply. Potter, Weasley and Granger sat on the beds, straight-backed and struggling to hide their anxiety.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." Granger said in a high, tense voice. She got up and slid into an awkward half-bow, half-curtsy. "My name is Hermione Granger."

Severus nodded coolly and levelled his silvery blue gaze on the boys. Weasley mumbled his name to his feet while his ears blazed red. Potter kept his head up, meeting Snape's eyes.

"Harry Potter, sir." The black-haired boy muttered. He looked nervous, but refused to show fear.

"You listened to the meeting." It was a statement, not a question. The three Gryffindors shared guilty looks. "You are inexperienced. Everything you have heard, Voldemort can tear from your minds." Severus made sure his voice was neutral and calm, revealing no emotion. Granger was a clever girl; if he wasn't careful, she would guess who he was. "All of you need training."

Granger's face lit up like a _Lumos_ while Weasley groaned and sunk further down in his seat. "We're all getting trained?" The brunette whispered, eyes gleaming.

"If you intend to share secrets."

"We do." Potter replied immediately, standing. He looked as suspicious as Mad-Eye, though Severus could hardly blame him considering the line-up of teachers he had suffered through.

Cúchulainn inclined his head. "We will begin in the morning. Have someone attempt to make you upset or laugh, practice emptying your mind and face of emotion." He left the room without another word, eager to return home.

"Sir?" Potter called and followed him out. The boy shifted his weight from foot to foot, losing some of his defiance. "Thank you."

Snape blinked slowly. "Don't thank me. Prove it is worth the effort."

Potter seemed to have taken the advice to empty his emotions to heart and stubbornly forced his expression into something approaching the blank mask Severus displayed. The spy tilted his head approvingly and swept silently down the stairs.

Severus had hoped to slip out of Grimmauld without being seen but found himself cornered by the 'Master of the House' just as he reached the door.

"So, you're Irish?" Black said casually, arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the doorway and blocked Cúchulainn escape. Severus didn't like Black, but it had been a very long time since the man's death. Snape didn't feel much of anything towards Sirius Black anymore.

"Yes." Severus replied levelly, hoping Black would get bored of him and wander off. Dumbledore must have asked the charismatic wizard to chip away the newcomer's defenses.

"How's Ireland?"

"Mild."

Black looked faintly uneasy. "And, uh, why are you helping?"

"I hate Voldemort." Severus answered honetly.

Black perked, glad to be back on familiar ground, and tested Cúchulainn with a disarming lop-sided grin. "Who doesn't? Hey, I've got plenty of room, why don't you stay here?"

 _He's lonely,_ Severus realized. The Headquarters were a pit-stop for most members and remained empty for weeks at a time. Even Lupin had missions that took him away while Black stewed uselessly in the dark. "I have other duties," he stated uncomfortably, trying to ignore Black's face crumble.

"Would you visit, then?" Black tried, letting his arms drop to his side. "For tea or something? You're a member of the Order, now." Black's blue eyes widened pathetically into a wretched kicked puppy expression.

Severus resisted the urge to step back and distance himself from the pleading wizard. "Perhaps." He grunted, stepping around Black. He pointedly didn't look at Black's happy grin as he quickly shut the door and Apperated away.

He returned to the Hill of Tara first, then jumped to a shadowed corner of Diagon Alley, a pleasant glen in Wales, and finally back to the Forbidden Forest. Severus slipped off the ring, turned into his owl form, and glided back to Hogwarts, deep in thought.

The Potions Master had a few hours to draft a study plan for three Gryffindors that desperately needed to hide their thoughts.

And now a dog Animagus to avoid.

* * *

 **August 16**

Severus arrived as Cúchulainn half an hour before eight, sneaking unseen through the crowded kitchen. He waited patiently in the bedroom, glancing about without searching through the boy's items. Potter, predictably, had spread what he had out across the entirety of the room in an attempt to disguise how little it was. Potter had a few books out, worn through adventure and use. Severus pulled out his blackthorn wand and tapped the books, watching dispassionately as the straying pages and batted cover pulled together neatly, good as new.

The door swung open and Potter pulled out his wand, fumbling twice before pointing it at Cúchulainn. "What did I last say to you?" He demanded shakily.

"You thanked me." Snape answered, amused. "How did I reply?"

"You told me to prove myself." Potter stuck his wand back into his pocket. "Are we training here?"

"For now." Weasley and Granger came in and closed the door behind them, watching Cúchulainn curiously. Severus quickly sat them down on the bed and stood across from the three teenagers. "The fastest way to learn Occlumency is to have someone test your defenses. Who will be first?"

The Gryffindors shared a nervous look before Granger raised her hand and stood.

"Empty yourself of all emotions," Severus ordered softly. "No fear, no anticipation, block it out."

The room was entirely silent as Granger screwed up her face in concentration and nodded.

" _Legilimens_ ,"

12 Grimmauld Place faded away as Cúchulainn's presence washed gently over Granger's defenses. He could feel her mental walls, constructed through the focus she used to empty herself, crumbling at once under the light touch.

Severus found himself in a muggle house. A middle aged couple were sitting at the table, chatting happily over a cup of coffee and a young girl with frizzy brown hair was sprawled across the floor on her stomach, a book open in front of her. Snape cut the flow of magic off, letting the scene spiral into nothing.

Severus blinked. Granger was sitting on the bed again, looking dazed. "We were in my home," she mumbled.

"A powerful Legilimens can watch your every memory," Cúchulainn warned them firmly, "a careless one can damage them. Blocking out your emotions instinctively builds a weak wall between your mind and your memories. Next."

Potter jumped to his feet as Weasley patted Granger's shoulder reassuringly. "I'm ready!"

Snape repeated the spell, feeling for Potter's attempt at Occlumency. The walls were there, but a simple cobweb between the boy's mind and a cursory scan. They were both thrown almost immediately into a memory.

Potter was sitting at the library with several Gryffindors, scratching out an essay. A group of Slytherins passed by, wearing _Potter Stinks_ badges and sneering arrogantly. Severus let the memory slide through his grasp. They had both remained standing, though Potter was swaying dangerously and collapsed beside Granger.

Weasley was pale and swallowed with difficulty. "I've changed my mind." He said. "Look, I'm not fighting Dark Lords or dragons or anything, I don't need to know about this stuff!"

"You are leaving Europe? Going into hiding? Leaving your friends to face Voldemort alone?" Cúchulainn growled, annoyed. Weasley's ears darkened and he shook his head angrily. "Than prepare yourself. _Legilimens_."

Severus was disappointed to find absolutely no resistance between the spell and a memory of the twins releasing a spider in Weasley's bed. He dropped the images and let the Gryffindors recover.

"Emptying your mind of emotion is the base of Occlumency," he stated. "The next step is the Mental Fortress. Miss Granger, you might use a library to organize and hide your memories. The more complex, the harder to maintain and the more difficulty a Legilimens would have finding a certain memory."

Granger bobbed her head thoughtfully, absorbing the advice. "What do you use, sir?"

Hogwarts, but he couldn't quite tell them that. "My home. Mr Weasley, you need to work on blocking out emotion before building a Fortress. Mr. Potter, how well do you know Hogwarts?"

Potter looked up at him, confused. "Er, I know it pretty well. Should I use it as my Fortress?"

"You could." Severus paused thoughtfully before continuing. "We will now practice Legilimency. All of you will attempt to breach my defenses."

They spent the next few hours fruitlessly attacking Snape's Occlumency and testing each-other's walls. By lunch-time, the students were magically exhausted and Cúchulainn reluctantly released them for the day. They would meet every morning until September 1st, drilling the basics in before school began. The spy was caught by Black, again, just as he reached the door.

"Staying for lunch?" Sirius asked hopefully, parking himself in the doorway. Severus nailed a lid over his annoyance, keeping his face blank and smooth. "Molly's a great cook, and it'll just be her family, the kids, Remus, and us."

"I'm not hungry." The spy excused himself.

Black rolled his eyes and snorted. "Tea, then?"

"I have things to do." Severus allowed his voice to drop coldly.

"Well, we could use some help around here and have tea an' sandwiches after." Black grabbed the disguised Potions Master's arm, sticking out his lower lip winsomely. "There're pixies in the attic and a boggart that's dug in the old sitting room." He explained cheerfully, leading Cúchulainn away from the exit. "Molly's having the kids spray the little buggers tomorrow but we can deal with the boggart."

Severus figured going with whatever Black was planning would let him escape faster but felt a flicker of unease at the mention of a boggart. What was his greatest fear now, after everything he had gone through? _Losing again,_ he decided. The students, Albus, the Order, all dead and gone, leaving him alone.

The two wizards stepped into the sitting room. It had been green, once, but was a grimy dark grey from time and neglect. There were filthy broken chairs and coffee tables pushed up against the walls, leaving only a large foreboding dresser bolted to the floor in the center of the room.

Black had taken out his wand, approaching the dresser cautiously. Severus drew the blackthorn wand and circled around behind him. The door swung very slowly open, creaking ominously on it's ancient rusted hinges.

And he heard it.

 _Hiss_.

The sound of sand in a broken time-turner.

A shaky, wrinkled hand, missing the ends of three fingers, slid from the darkness of the dresser and clutched blindly at the edge. Severus opened his mouth, hoping to banish the Boggart before Black could get a good glimpse of it, when it pulled itself free of the shadows.

The old man's dull dark eyes fixed dimly on Cúchulainn. He was bowed and defeated, trembling on his feet, nearly skeletal in appearance. His lined face was a mess of cuts and lumps from broken bones that never healed right. His nose, once hooked and bent, was spread across his face. There was a jagged hole where his left ear had been. His hair was cropped short and nearly entirely grey. Severus knew if he opened his mouth, there would be a wiggly pink stump in place of a tongue.

 _Hiss_.

" _Riddikulus_." Snape almost whimpered the spell, trying frantically to think of something that would make the apparition funny.

The Boggart shuffled closer, every breath like the rasp of sand on glass. It didn't even flinch at the impact of the spell. Severus felt a steel band close over his chest and felt his breath come out in quiet pained gasps.

" _Riddikulus!_ " Black shouted, slashing his wand violently. Thick round spectacles appeared on the Boggart's nose and overly large suspenders pulled up past his bellybutton took the place of his ratty black robes. The former Gryffindor forced an unconvincing laugh, making the Boggart shudder. It dropped to the ground and shifted into Potter, dead and still. The hiss of sand vanished. Black's throat closed with fear and his wand shook.

" _Riddikulus_." Severus pictured a tap-dancing clown and saw Potter leap to his feet, dressed in baggy polka-dot clothes, a massive pair of red shoes, a shiny red nose, and a frizzy green wig, and begin to do a clumsy jigg. Both wizards chuckled painfully and the Boggart crawled towards the dresser, defeated. Severus cut off its escape, cursing it into an empty potion vial.

The two men stood in silence, watching the Boggart froth behind the glass like burning ink. Black cleared his throat.

"Tea?"

"Tea."

The kitchen was empty when they arrived on shaky legs. Black wordlessly filled the kettle and put it on the fire before sitting beside Severus at the table. They avoided each-other's eyes until the tea was done and they finally felt warm again.

"Thanks, Coalfur." The Black scion said to his mug.

Severus raised one eyebrow sharply before he could help himself and was relieved that Black was still focused on his tea. The expression was entirely 'Snape-like'. "Coalfur?"

"I looked up Cúchulainn. Culann was a smith, right? And it's like..." Black shrugged, a grim smile on his lips. "My friends all had nicknames like that in school. I'm Padfoot, you can call me that if you want."

 _The Marauders. Padfoot, Prongs, Moony and Wormtail._ Severus couldn't decide if he was flattered or ticked off. He would use it to his advantage anyway. Being in Black's good books could be useful. "Fine... _Pads_."

Black's grave grin lightened and he nudged Snape's ribs companionably. "Thanks, Coal." He repeated, relieved.

Over the course of both wars, Severus had grown used to putting up with unpleasant allies. Black, though a childish bully and a selfish bastard, was far from the worst company he had endured.

They finished their tea in a friendly silence and Black bid Severus goodbye at the door.

* * *

 **August 28**

Severus' days quickly fell into a comfortable routine. He would arrive at Grimmauld Place at eight every morning, train the Gryffindors until lunch, then help Black de-curse the house for an hour or two and return to Hogwarts after an almost enjoyable conversation over tea that he could never seem to wiggle out of. The Death Eaters were laying low in an attempt to discredit Potter and Albus, just as they had last time. He'd had to leave early some days, his wards warning him the someone was trying to Floo his quarters, but luckily went unquestioned. The mysterious aura that surrounded Cúchulainn kept everyone at arm's length and respectful.

Save for Sirius Black.

"So, what's it like being an Animus Augur, Coal?" Black asked curiously. They had just finished trawling one of the rooms full of dark artifacts and had sat down for tea and biscuits.

Severus cursed silently but remained outwardly calm as he took a calculating sip of tea. Daedalus, to his father's pride and concern, had been an Augur. Severus dredged up everything he recalled of Daedalus' childish babbling.

"I cannot see faces," he replied, rubbing his knuckles. He could almost hear the little boy, sitting at his desk and kicking his feet, rambling on about what his parents' souls looked like. When Daedalus was young he would prefer to sit beside Severus, his tiny hand gripping one of his crooked fingers during their lessons. He explained that he could only really tell what someone looked like through touch and pictures. "I see a light under their skin that blots out everything else."

Black was fascinated. "Really? So you don't know what I look like?" He seemed oddly put-out. _Black was always overly fond of his own looks,_ Severus thought. The Potions Master shrugged lightly. "Well, what's my soul look like?" He grinned.

"Milky congealed tea." Cúchulainn shot back stoically. Black barked out a laugh.

"You met Snape, right? What'd he look like?"

Severus stiffened slightly, but this was a question he could answer honestly.

 _"Like the moon!" Daedalus smiled boyishly. His brown eyes gleamed under a messy fringe of white blond hair. "All bright and glowing and stuff but with these grey craters."_

"Like the moon." Severus echoed the young boy faintly.

" _Really?_ " Black scowled. "He's a Death Eater!"

"And you are a Black," the dog animagus bridled and Severus watched him out of the corner of eye before adding, " _Padfoot_. We are more than one thing."

Black took a moment to chew on that thought. "Do I really look like old tea with too much milk?"

"An aging Black that is a Light wizard?" Cúchulainn retorted, letting the corner of one lip twitch in amusement.

"Oi! Have you looked in the mirror, old man?" Black mocked in return.

Severus almost forgot that he was in disguise sometimes. He and Black weren't on friendly terms, Potter had less respect for him than he had for his Aunt, and the Order didn't appreciate his help, that was all for Cúchulainn. But he had spent much of his life in misery and anger, there was no reason not to enjoy it as another man for now.

"What makes you think I can see my own face?" Severus asked cleverly, running a hand over his bulbous nose and scratchy cheek.

Black bit his lip, finished his tea with a messy gulp and ran out of the room. Severus watched him go, confused and slightly hurt. He rose to leave just as Black, panting pathetically, raced back in holding a muggle camera. Before Severus could react, Black brought the camera to his eye and pressed the button.

Severus blinked the white light out of his eye as Black enthusiastically shook the film. "A gift from Moony," he explained as they waited. "He's in the Muggle world sometimes and thought I needed a hobby." They leaned in to look at the picture.

It was Cúchulainn, a face Severus had grown familiar of, looking annoyed and puzzled. "You always look like that, Coalfur." Black joked, tapping the expression on the picture. "Like someone pissed in your tea and you don't know why." He waved over the picture with his wand, muttering a spell, and it animated itself. Cúchulainn grumbled in the image, his mouth twitching occasionally into a grim half-smile.

Severus watched the picture loop for a few moments. "Thank you." He said. Black grinned proudly and turned the camera on them, throwing his arm over Snape's shoulder.

"Say cheese!" He crowed, pressing down hard on the button.

Severus left soon after, an animated Polaroid film of two wizards affably jostling one another tucked safely in his breast pocket.

* * *

 **September 1**

Severus was not impressed with the Gryffindors' progress in Occlumency but allowed Albus to organize training meetings with Cúchulainn Friday evenings instead of every morning. Strangely enough, he was almost disappointed that there would be no more daily tea with Black. The training sessions would take place in the Come-and-Go Room, there would be no reason to see Black anymore.

Severus listened with half an ear to the Sorting, secretly enjoying the ceremony. It had been far too long since he had sat through one. He clapped politely whenever a child joined his house and tried not to think about what happened to them. It wouldn't happen again.

Albus stood grandly, his long white beard glowing under the candle-light. "I beg a few moments of your attention, as I have a few start of term announcements. Right off, our caretaker, the good Mr. Filch," several students snorted, "has reminded me for what he says is the four-hundred and sixty-second time that he had an annually updated list of various banned items, usually introduced by out humour experts Fred and George Weasley..." The twins stood and bowed as the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs cheered. Albus continued, blue eyes twinkling, "...which are posted in an extensive list on the door to Mr. Filch's office."

Severus listened distantly to Albus introduce Grubby-plank as a stand-in for Hagrid, and Umbridge, the _witch_ herself. The utensils on the table vibrated as she _Hem_ 'd.

Minerva, sitting beside Severus, glanced at the rattling forks, knives and spoons. She leaned towards the Potions Master and whispered, "Severus, what's wrong?"

"Her voice is grating." Snape sneered, wrestling down his boiling magic. "She's obviously here to spy for the Ministry. I can't stand a bad spy." Minerva brought her hand to her mouth, hiding a smile. Her eyes gleamed with cat-like impishness.

"Yes, it is annoying, isn't it?" She lowered her voice even more. "Do you have a plan?"

Severus arched an eyebrow at her. As a student, he had pulled more than a few pranks. As a young teacher, he had never been caught. "How do you think she likes toads?" He asked casually, glancing down the table. Minerva failed to muffle a snort.

Umbridge was finishing her simpering speech to the students. "There are large changes coming soon, changes walking the fine line between order and chaos. Know only that these changes are for the best, and to prevent the destruction of our civilization from its own decay. Thank you." She smiled at them and sat down. Albus lead a polite applause as the tables filled with food.

"She likes cats," Minerva muttered into her cup, looking straight ahead. "I can get in her quarters."

"Good."

* * *

 **September 6**

Severus stepped into the Come-and-Go Room at the end of the first week. The room would make sure no-one interrupted. His loss of control at the Start of Year Feast worried him. He had gone a very long time without his wand, allowing his magic to circle around him like a shark. It was time his magic was back under Severus' command. He didn't even know how powerful he was anymore. Stronger than he had been the first time he went through 1995, he was sure.

Severus stood in the blast-proof dueling room, spinning the blackthorn wand in his hand. There were targets on the wall and ceiling, scuttling erratically across the surface, and straw dummies set up randomly around the floor. He took a deep breath and aimed at a dummy. " _Bombarda_ ," he cast, pouring a small amount of energy into the wand.

The dummy disappeared in a cloud of slivers and dust. The spell tore through the dummy behind it too, tearing it into chunks, and finally washed up against the wall, shattering several targets. The rest of the boards scurried away.

Severus laughed darkly and vanished the shattered dummies. The room provided a large stone with strengthening ruins carved into its surface.

The time-traveler rolled his shoulders and prepared himself. " _Bombarda Maxima!_ " He roared, flooding the room with magic. The stone held for a moment before collapsing in on itself, pressed into a small round pebble. It began rumbling ominously. Severus guessed what was about to happen in time and cast an impenetrable _Protego_. The rock exploded outwards, ricocheting off the walls and Snape's shield.

When the dust and rubble settled, Severus released the shield and looked around proudly. Every target and dummy had been utterly destroyed. Another stone appeared.

" _Defodio_ ," large chunks were gouged out of the boulder and clattered against the ground. " _Deletrius_." The slabs decayed into dust. " _Diffindo._ " Pale scratches appeared over the cratered surface of the remains. Severus frowned at the destroyed rock. " _Fianto Duri._ " The rock glowed slightly, strengthened by the spell. It would last a little longer now. The spy drew in a hard breath and shook his tingling arm. One last spell.

" _Belluastrina_." He rasped. Fiendfyre bubbled up from his wand, spreading across the stone ground like lava. Hogwarts would isolate it if he lost control, but the heat and rush of power made Severus sweat. He stopped pumping magic into the spell once it curled menacingly around him like a basilisk inferno. It flicked a curious forked tongue out at the wizard, leaving a painful red burn on his right forearm. It reared, flickered into the shape of a spitting snake, and lunged for him.

Severus jumped nimbly aside, bringing the blackthorn down with a vicious _crack_. The Fiend trembled and dimmed but didn't give in. It took several more heavy blows for the burning snake to wear down. It coiled up weakly, swaying its massive head back and forth. It seemed to wait unhappily for his order.

"You will listen to me?" Severus panted. The Fiend bowed miserably. "You will obey when I summon you?" It shivered and nodded with a helpless angry crackle. "Destroy the rock."

The Fiend wound itself up tightly and struck the stone, melting it into nothing. It turned back to its master expectantly. " _Malinguo_." The great beast dwindled peacefully into ash. Severus banished the cursed remains and summoned a chair. He collapsed into it, exhausted, and stared at the blackthorn wand. It was feverishly hot, vibrating slightly in his hand. There was something else he had to try.

" _Expecto Patronum_ ," Severus tried his first happy memory of listening to his father tell him old Irish legends. There was a weak tendril of light. " _Expecto Patronum._ " He thought of pushing Lily on the swings, watching the sunlight sparkle off her blazing red hair and listening to her childish laugh. A small warm cloud formed around the wand. The memories were too old. " _Expecto Patronum!_ " He filled his mind with the memory of Albus pressing a pair of silly socks in his hands, smiling and wishing him a happy birthday. The spell managed a faint outline, filling the room with a gentle glow, but went no further.

Severus made a frustrated noise and ran his hand through his hair. What if a student was attacked by a Dementor? He would be useless! He didn't know if it could be helped. Severus had so few happy memories, all old and none that weren't corrupted in some way.

The Potions Master chewed his lower lip and sighed. He pulled out the picture Black took and watched Padfoot and Coalfur for a moment. Severus dredged up Cúchulainn's wary affection and budding contentment. " _Expecto Patronum,_ " he growled. He would _not_ be useless.

The Patronus formed reluctantly. It wouldn't be the doe anymore, Severus knew he had changed too much for that, but he was surprised when it started wagging its tail eagerly.

"Oh no..." Severus groaned. The Grim whined and put its glowing head in his lap, grinning hopefully.

When he got over the worst of the embarrassment, Snape figured he shouldn't be shocked. Black was Cúchulainn's only friend, he supposed, and the Slytherin had a tendency to latch tightly on to his friends. He prayed fervently that he would never have to chase off a Dementor when Black was within sight; he'd never live it down.

Severus patted the Patronus' head a few times and slipped the picture back into his breast pocket. The Grim wiggled furiously and drooled dry silvery saliva over his robes that vanished almost instantly.

The door appeared slowly, giving Severus time to banish the Patronus. Albus opened the door and paused, both eyebrows drifting up. "Severus, my boy, what happened?" He asked, aghast.

The room was thoroughly thrashed. There was rubble strewn everywhere, soot marks bathed every surface, and the melted stone had solidified into a rocky carpet. Severus' burn was a vivid red and his black robes were tattered from the Fiend.

Severus cleared his throat. "Working off my temper," he caught himself before he could finish with 'sir'. The honorific made his mentor nervous.

Albus nodded sympathetically. There had been fewer crying firsties and complaints from the older years, Severus knew, and Albus had guessed that his temperamental spy had found another outlet. "I understand Dolores has... stepped on some toes?"

The time-travel tensed his jaw. Umbridge has taken to sitting beside him during dinner, batting her eyes 'flirtingly' and giggling at every begrudging word she could torture out of him. It reminded him disturbingly of Bellatrix endearing herself to the Dark Master. "She has." He said coldly. At the very least, Minerva and Severus had smuggled several prank potions into the sugar she kept in her quarters.

Albus chuckled and shook his head, gesturing for Severus to follow. "Tea, my boy?" Severus nodded.

They didn't speak again until they reached Dumbledore's office and settled down with green tea and chocolate biscuits. "I wanted to thank you, Severus." Albus said with a fond smile. "Cúchulainn is an invaluable asset and we most likely would not have found him without you."

Severus shifted in his seat. "I assure you, I was simple avoiding wasting even more time with Potter." He didn't trust Albus' knowing expression.

"I am still thankful. I believe Cúchulainn will be more useful than anyone might think. He remains aloof from the Order, however, except for with Sirius. I was hoping you might attempt to befriend-"

Snape cut Dumbledore off with a harsh laugh. "The man nearly killed me, Albus!"

Albus frowned. "It was a childhood prank-"

"Not Black. Cúchulainn." Severus needed a reasonable excuse not to interact with the Animus Augur. His legendary ability to maintain grudges, however petty, would help. "I told you we fought when I was loyal to the Dark Lord. He won and swore to kill me if we met again."

"He is loyal to us, Severus, Cúchulainn won't hurt you." Albus peered at the younger wizard over his half-moon glasses. "And, after all, you no longer owe any allegiance to Voldemort."

"I bear the Dark Mark." Severus retorted, rubbing his left arm. "That would be enough. If you want someone to spy on Cúchulainn, why not ask Black?" Albus reddened slightly and took a noisy sip of tea. Severus paused. "You already asked him, didn't you?"

"Sirius doesn't want to betray the trust Cúchulainn has put in him," said Dumbledore deliberately as he took a chocolate biscuit. He crunched the cookie and added, "Sirius will tell us if there is anything to worry about, of course, but I would feel safer if we knew something about our mysterious ally."

"What shall I tell the Dark Lord?" Severus asked, changing the subject. Albus brushed crumbs out of his beard, smiling wisely.

"I will leave that to you, my boy."

Severus glared at the old meddler. "How much does the Order know?"

"Only that I contacted Cúchulainn and he is an Animus Augur training Harry Potter. Remus knows you were the informant and where Cúchulainn was found, but no-one else."

Severus bit down on his thumb for show. He could work with that. "I will inform the Dark Lord what Cúchulainn is. Everyone knows he is training Potter?" He knew the answer; he was there.

"Yes."

The spy dipped his chin, pretending to be lost in thought. "I will keep you updated." He stood, placing his tea cup back on the china with a small clatter. Albus bid him a distracted farewell, still pulling biscuit crumbs from his long beard.

* * *

Severus was Summoned during his first weekly meeting as Cúchulainn with the Gryffindors. He gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to grip his left forearm. The session had wound down and Granger, Potter, and Weasley were practicing defending and attacking each-other.

 _Tempas_ , he flicked his fingers. **9:48**. They had been training for just under three hours. "You may go," Cúchulainn stated impassively.

"Are you okay, sir?" Granger asked curiously as they packed their bags.

"Fine. Go." The Mark burned nearly as terribly as the Fiend's burn on his other arm.

They didn't leave.

"If something were wrong, you'd tell us, right?" Potter pressed stubbornly. Severus tried not to glare at the students.

"Yes. Go." They didn't look convinced, but reluctantly shuffled out. Severus ran to the window the Room of Requirement created for him and shifted into the black owl.

He glided down from the 7th floor to the Forbidden Forest, feathers quivering as he searched for the edge of the wards. A cold bolt of power hit his dark breast and Severus folded his wings into a dive. He barely pulled up before colliding with the ground and shifted back into a human, landing at a run.

Severus pulled off the hound ring, tucking it in his pocket. He Transfigured Cúchulainn's robes into a Death Eater uniform and pulled his mask from his boot, growing it back into its proper size with a tap of his old wand.

Severus double-checked his appearance and Apperated on the spot.

* * *

 **Fiendfyre does not have an incantation. I mixed Bellua, meaning fiend or monster, and Ustrina, meaning fire. The counter Malinguo is a mix of extinguo, extinguish or deprive of life, and malacia, calm.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3- A good laugh and a long sleep are the best cures in the doctor's book**

 **September 6**

Severus opened his eyes and recognized the old Wilkes Estate. The Death Eaters had claimed the man's assets after his death at Moody's wand. It wasn't much, a poor remainder of the family's original wealth, but well warded and large enough for meetings. He took a moment to glance around the grounds and note the scuffs in the wet dirt. He was likely the last one to arrive. Snape hurried towards the Estate, cursing the 'Golden Trio' under his breath. If he was punished for being late, he was going to throw a pop quiz at every Gryffindor class he had Monday. Hopefully what little he could tell Voldemort about Cúchulainn would appease him.

The spy tried to slip unnoticed into the gathering but was hastily pushed away by the other Death Eaters. He didn't blame them for throwing him to the wolves. He blamed them for being immoral sick bastards.

Pettigrew scurried towards Snape, wand raised, and Severus contemptuously curled his lip under his mask. The Potions Master disarmed the silver-handed wizard with an impossibly quick flick of his old wand.

"You're late, Snape!" The rat squeaked spitefully. "You need to be punished!" The miserable Gryffindor had memorized the pattern of his schoolboy enemy's mask.

"You haven't earned my pain," Severus hissed, approaching menacingly. "It belongs to our Master."

The silence following his declaration was broken by slow, deliberate clapping. Dozens of masked faces turned to face the front of the hall, craning their necks to see over the robes in front of them.

Voldemort twisted his inhuman face into a terrifying smile, clasping his hands over his lap in a parody of his hated enemy. "Well said, my loyal servant. Approach and kneel." Severus wiped his face and mind of emotion as he strode through the crowd and knelt. He brushed his lips to the hem of the Dark Lord's robes briefly before rocking back on his heels, keeping his hooked nose close to the ground. "What do you have to report?"

"Dumbledore has found an Occlumency teacher for _Potter_." Severus injected as much venom as he could into the name. "A wizard calling himself Cúchulainn."

"What else do you know of him, my boy?"

Severus ground his teeth at the endearment. "Only that he is from Ireland and is a capable duelist." He replied, forcing himself to sound apologetic.

"You will find out more before the next meeting." Voldemort ordered, gesturing for the Potions Master to rejoin the other Death Eaters. Severus half-rose and shuffled back into the crowd, comforted by the press of bodies obscuring him from immediate sight. "Pettigrew, make your report."

Severus listened only as much as he needed to make a full report and focused on blending in with the gathering of black robes and white masks. He had been late, and Voldemort was a stickler for punctuality. The Dark Lord was in a good humor and released them three hours later with minimum menacing. The Death Eaters chatted in the garden almost amiably, if not for the cloying aura of fear and superiority around them.

Severus had nearly slipped away when a slithering voice called him back to the hall. He showed none of his reluctance and obeyed promptly. Pettigrew was at Voldemort's side, smirking.

"You were late." The dark wizard commented.

"I had a detention, my Lord," Severus excused himself hopelessly.

Voldemort frowned, red eyes gleaming. "The students are more important than me, Severus?"

"No, my Lord." He also thought _No, my Lord,_ and repeated it mentally to keep the more dangerous thoughts at bay.

"You will be punished."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Pettigrew?"

Severus closed his eyes for a moment, composing himself. The humiliation was sharp but Pettigrew was a pathetic wizard and Voldemort knew it. "Thank you, my Lord." He said in an almost mocking tone. The rat gnashed his teeth, beady eyes flashing.

" _Crucio!_ "

* * *

 **September 7**

Severus limped back to the castle, cursing with every step. It was past midnight, the castle was silent save for the snoring portraits. He avoided the teachers on patrol and made it to his quarters. The doors locked and warded themselves behind him as Severus collapsed on his couch and pulled out the blackthorn wand with clumsy fingers. He banished his robes to the laundry basket with a shaky wave of his wand, leaving him in his underclothes, boots and mask, and preformed a short examination. It took a minute as his eyes would glaze over every few seconds and he would struggle to refocus. Crucaitus trembles wracked his muscles, though it was mild, and a few of his fingers were crooked. Severus nearly laughed at the sight; Pettigrew failed to draw a sound from the professor and resorted to the entirely muggle method of stomping on Snape's hand. The Dark Lord hadn't approved of the brutish tactic.

 _"Episkey_." The bones righted themselves with a painful crack. Severus dragged himself back to his feet and barely made it to his bed.

Something nagging at the back of Severus' head wouldn't let him sleep. He dozed uncomfortably for half an hour before his blood-shot eyes popped open.

The picture and ring were in his robes.

Aching, the spy rolled off of the warm bed and stumbled to the laundry basket. He rooted through the pockets, asleep on his feet, and took the contents back to the bedroom with him.

Severus woke up around six in the morning, his face squashed against the inside of his mask and his neck stiff. Everything whimpered pathetically when he tugged the mask off, letting it fall between his night stand and the bed. He knocked the things from his robes onto the grounds as he crawled out from the covers and into the bathroom. It was Saturday and he had nothing more pressing to do than mark essays and tests, so he took his time in the shower scrubbing in muscle-relaxant salve and cleaning himself.

Severus returned to his bedroom, sore but alive, and mechanically dressed himself. He kicked the silver hound ring under the bed and reluctantly knelt to fish it out. Snape picked up the mask, ring, and picture, taking a moment to watch the animated loop on the film before tucking all three back into their proper places. He knew what he wanted to do today.

Breakfast was still in full swing when Severus sat down at the head table beside Albus, disguising the remaining trembles with practiced ease. "I'm visiting Knockturn Alley today," he told the Headmaster casually, spearing a hash-brown on his fork. "I thought I'd leave before lunch, after we have a talk." He kept his voice assertive, subtly telling rather than asking. Albus twinkled and nodded. They ate in silence and Dumbledore lead Severus up to his office to report.

* * *

Cúchulainn raised his hand to knock and paused before shrugging, throwing the door open. He could feel the wards shivering around him when he entered. The house was alerting its Master.

Black came tearing down the hall, wand raised, and stopped short at the sight of the Irish wizard standing in the entrance. "Coal!" He cried, lowering the wand. Black pulled the taller man into a hug as the curtain covering the portrait of Mrs. Black ripped back. The ghastly woman drew in her breath for a ear-shattering shriek.

The blackthorn wand jumped into Severus' hand and a streak of white light smacked Mrs. Black on the forehead. The portrait's eyes crossed and she mumbled uncertainly as the curtains slid erratically shut again.

Black stepped back and grinned at Cúchulainn. "Nice. C'mon, we were just sitting down for lunch." The dog animagus resolutely pulled Snape to the kitchen, babbling cheerfully. "Moony's here for the day, too. Some mission in Germany or something tomorrow, and he just got back from Slovakia. It's been lonely without the kids an' the Weasleys an' everyone, but the worst part is being useless, you know?"

Lupin looked up as they entered the room and smiled nervously. He wasn't as comfortable around Cúchulainn as his friend was. "What are you going here, sir?"

Black boldly pushed Severus into one of the chairs, rolling his eyes. "Calm down, Moony. It's just Coal." He pulled the kettle off the stove and tossed Remus a cup.

The werewolf caught it against his chest. "Cole?" Severus snatched his mug out of the air and ran a finger along the inside of the rim, pretending not to listen.

"No, _Coal_. Coalfur."

Lupin's face fell guiltily. He hadn't seen Sirius much in fifteen years, and he couldn't stop the shameful swell of jealously when Padfoot gave Cúchulainn a Marauder name. "Oh. Is he.. one of us?" They shared a look. Black shook his head subtly as he poured Lupin's tea.

"I could be." Cúchulainn said to his cup. He ignored their surprised looks. "I know you're a werewolf."

Lupin dropped his mug, sending boiling tea over Black's bare feet. The pureblood jumped and cursed. "How?" croaked Lupin weakly.

"I can see your soul." Severus lied confidently. "And you mind my ring closely. You smelt the silver." They all glanced at the running hound ring.

"What are you going to do?" The werewolf swallowed.

"I'm going to drink tea." The spy replied with a hint of amusement, blowing on his mug. Black's face cracked into a wild grin and he slung an arm over a shocked Lupin's shoulder.

"See!" He laughed. "Coal's a good guy! He doesn't care that you're a werewolf."

 _This is disgustingly easy,_ Severus sighed. It took little effort to manipulate Black and less to endear himself to him. The man had charm, limited towards Light wizards and Gryffindors of course, and could prove useful in the future if Albus ever grew weary of Cúchulainn.

"We should teach him to be an Animagus!" Black exclaimed as Lupin cleaned up his broken cup in a daze. "We could all go on runs during the full moon."

Severus clicked his front teeth against the rim of the mug as he thought. They wouldn't know that the spy was an Animagus, and the part of him called Cúchulainn enjoyed showing off in a way he never before could.

"I already am," he stated after a moment.

Lupin's eyes widened while Black's smile grew. "No way, what're you?" The dog Animagus leaned across the table eagerly.

"An owl."

Incredibly, Black looked disappointed. "Really? Not a, a dog or a cat? I don't want to change your name."

Severus very pointedly didn't roll his eyes in a way that made it clear he had considered rolling his eyes. "A black owl."

"Coalfeather it is." Lupin pitched in experimentally. He relaxed when Cúchulainn didn't frown at him, nodding slightly in acceptance.

"Yeah, that'll work." Sirius pulled a massive bowl of Molly's potato salad and dropped it on the table with three forks. "Feel like going on a run sometime?" He plunged his fork into the bowl and stuck it into his mouth.

What was there to gain? Goodwill, Severus supposed. He'd need it in the upcoming war, especially if he was captured. As reckless and foolish as they were, Gryffindors wouldn't hesitate to launch rescue attempts for people they feel loyal towards. At the very least, they could provide a vital distraction. Severus _couldn't_ be caught again. It would be the death of him. "Fine." He responded neutrally, pretending to ignore Lupin's subdued and relieved smile. "Full moon?"

Black enthusiastically nodded, mouth full.

"Is there something you wanted to do today, Coalfeather?" Lupin asked, scooping up a small amount of potato salad and plopping it onto a separate plate.

Severus looked meaningfully at Sirius. "Something useful."

They spent the next few hours searching through the more dangerous rooms, places that had been locked up when the Headquarters were full of thoughtless children. There were ancient books, scripts so obscure that Severus nearly drooled at the sight of them, and innocent looking objects that radiated dark magic and made his Dark Mark itch.

Black set aside the artifacts they couldn't destroy between them, and Severus didn't offer to destroy them with Fiendfyre. It was a considerably dark spell, and he didn't want to risk a relatively new alliance simply for convenience.

It was nearly dinner when, dusty and tired, they finished the last room of the day and returned to the kitchen. Severus had stepped past a dingy cupboard, reaching for a soup pot, when his Mark twinged. Cúchulainn paused and searched the cupboards for a secret compartment, tapping the sides and backs of the top row before crouching down to check the floor-level row.

"What're you doing?" Black peeked over his shoulder, half a chocolate bar in his hand.

"There is something here," Severus murmured softly.

"Nothing but Kreacher's cubbie."

Severus paused. _Kreacher, Kreacher..._ The house elf, he recalled suddenly. He was important, wasn't he? Potter blamed the elf, and Severus, for Black's death. There was something else, but he couldn't remember.

" 'S this one," Black said, opening the largest cupboard, tucked behind the pantry door. Most of the room was taken up by an archaic boiler, draped in ragged quilts and old blankets. Severus' sharp eyes caught the the gleam of coins and slivers of metal baubles. There were moldy bits of stale bread and green cheese tucked in the corners and a large genealogy book of the Noble Houses. A few framed pictures leaned against the pipes, angled to face whoever entered the cubbie.

"Ew, gross, look!" Black reached in and pulled out one of the pictures. Underneath a useless layer of Spellotape and grungy broken glass was the smiling face of a young Bellatrix. Snape winced and gently bit his tongue, reassuring himself that it was still there.

Severus turned away from the picture and bent double to enter the cubbie. He reached his hand behind the boiler, dragging out dust, dead mice, and finally an elegant silver locket with a large orange gem cut into a long octagon. It had a green snake on the front surrounded by ancient ruins. The Dark Mark writhed and he half expected to see a serpent slither out of his sleeve.

"What in Avalon is _that_?" Black pulled the locket out of Severus' hand, shuddering when the cold metal touched his skin. "Why does Kreacher have this?"

 _Hiss_.

Severus tried desperately to ignore the sound that sent shivers down his spine. It couldn't be real. "Perhaps he saw us destroy everything else."

"Yeah, but why save this over the other junk?" Black brought it closer to his face, enamored by the subtle gleam of the jewelry. "Pretty, isn't it?"

Cúchulainn took it back and cast a detection spell on it. There were traces of powerful curses but they were years old.

"Find anything?"

"No." He didn't admit how much that worried him.

"Why don't you keep it?" Black generously offered. "It's a fine piece of silver. Moony won't say anything but he'd probably feel safer if I don't leave it laying around. Besides, I don't want to have anything Kreacher fondled."

Severus squinted down at it suspiciously but felt a small burst of warmth in his chest. "Thank you," he said. If it truly was safe, he planned to put the film inside the handsome locket.

Black patted his shoulder and grinned. "No problem."

* * *

 **September 8**

Cúchulainn knelt in the center of the Come-and-Go Room, his robes pooled around him, looking down at the curling green snake on the locket. He tried to pry it open with his fingers, but the locket was spelled shut.

" _Alohomora_ ," Severus waved his wand in a perfect _S_. The locket remained shut. " _Aberto. Librare. Dunamis. Annihilare_." The silver clasp didn't move. Severus growled in frustration.

He was so absorbed in the task that he didn't notice the door appear until it opened and Potter stepped in, holding his books. The boy paused when he saw his teacher in the bare dueling room.

"Sir? What's that?" Potter shuffled over and looked at the locket with interest.

Severus ignored the tiny flare of irrational pettiness telling him to hide the gift away. He held the locket up by its chain, letting the snake spin slowly in front of him. "It is a locket." He answered dryly. Potter rolled his eyes and put his books down next to him.

"What are you doing with it?"

"Attempting to open it." Severus stood, eyes still fixed on the green snake, and offered the locket to the Gryffindor. Potter took it, confused. "You are a Parselmouth," there was the slightest lilt of a question.

"Yes, sir."

"Speak to it."

Potter hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek. He hissed gently to it, almost crooning. The green snake wiggled, but the clasp didn't move.

"Tell it to open," Cúchulainn ordered, pulling out the blackthorn wand. The locket popped open and Severus leaned in to look inside.

The piercing brown eyes of the Dark Master fixed on him from the shadowed chamber. Severus drew in a sharp gasp and sent the locket spinning away from Potter with a sharp slash of his wand. He jumped in front of the boy, heart thumping, as smoke poured from the cursed object and formed a familiar figure.

"You will fail again," the Dark Master said. He looked like he had in the future, celebrating the fall of his greatest enemy. Fortunately, he also looked like he had in the past, a fifty five year-old Tom Riddle before his defeat at the chubby hands of a toddler. He was handsome, brown hair pulled back into a traditional ponytail, thin clever face glowing with ambition. He didn't look like a monster, only acted like one. "All the pain, all those deaths, the people _you_ have killed, pointle _ssss_." He twisted the last word into a cold slithering growl.

Rage and fear rose in a firestorm inside the Potions Master. " _Avada Kedavra!_ " He roared, sending a bolt of cold green light slamming into the ghostly figure. The Dark Master shuddered like a stone thrown into water but it gave Severus a moment to think.

The locket appeared to have part of Voldemort in it. It was obviously meant to be for his eyes only, considering the Parseltongue lock. The apparition was coming from the locket and couldn't be real, or the Killing Curse would have done more to it.

"Go, Potter!" Cúchulainn snarled, loosening up his arm with a violent shake.

"No!" The boy yelled, stepping around Snape to point his wand at the locket's guardian. The spy cursed but didn't waste time or energy arguing.

" _Belluastrina_!" Thundered Cúchulainn, feeling the magic tear through him and form a swirling spout of flames. The Fiendfyre spiraled around them, making the air shimmer with heat. He stopped feeding it when the massive head developed fully and flicked its forked tongue at him in greeting. "Destroy the locket." He commanded the Fiend.

The figure of Voldemort shimmered uncertainly. The fire feared only it's wielder.

The Fiend coiled up, its endless blazing body surrounding Potter and Snape as it prepared to strike.

"SSssss..." The apparition hissed. Cúchulainn's Fiend paused, confused. It uncertainly swayed its glowing nose from Voldemort to its master.

"Destroy the locket!" Severus bellowed desperately.

"Kill them both!" Voldemort spat.

The Fiend drew itself up, broad serpent head leaving sooty marks on the ceiling, and crackled. It struck at Harry experimentally, shying away at the vicious crack of the blackthorn wand, and nipped without confidence at the locket.

The locket wailed at the touch of cursed fire, spewing green smoke that twisted in the air like snakes. The Fiend bit it again, more sure of itself, and the locket crumbled into nothing.

The two wizards stared at the ash on the ground as the Fiend prodded it and turned to Severus with an expectant sizzle. The consuming fury and horror drained away, leaving him exhausted.

"What was that?!" He cried indignantly. The Fiend shamefully lowered its head. "You obey _me_ , Imp!" It made a fiery sound close to a whimper and wormed as close to its master as it could get without burning him.

"She says she's sorry." Potter chimed in, dazed. He hadn't put away his wand, eyes locked on the sooty stain on the ground. "Her head was full of voices and she didn't know which one to obey. She won't do it again."

Cúchulainn stared at him for a moment in silence before sighing heavily and reaching out his hand to the newly named Imp. He ran his fingers over her scalding head indulgently for as long as he could stand. "You certainly won't," he told her firmly. Imp almost purred, wiggling in delight. " _Malinguo_." The fire faded away, leaving nothing but black marks behind.

"Was that Fiendfyre? What was that locket thing?" Potter asked shakily, still in shock. He stuffed his wand back into his pocket.

"Yes. If you summon a Fiend without me and somehow survive it, I will kill you," threatened Cúchulainn. They both knew he was serious, mostly. "I don't know what the locket was." He admitted. Severus felt a painful twinge of loss when he glanced at the remaining ash. He didn't get gifts often, and it had been a fine piece of silver. He vanished the crumbled residue regretfully.

"Who was that man then? You recognized him right away and it was his eyes in the locket." Potter pressed, looking up at the spy. Dumbledore never told the boy anything, but Severus figured that the best way to convince Potter to focus on his Occlumency was by telling him important, but largely harmless, knowledge that he had to keep safe.

"That was Tom Riddle before his fall." Severus replied. "I believe he sealed part of himself inside the locket, thought I don't know how or to what purpose."

Potter's eyes skittered over the smoke-stained walls, an expression of awe creeping over his face. "Should we tell the Headmaster?"

 _This was a chance to either heal the gap Dumbledore had driven between himself and the boy, or widen it,_ Severus thought. "We could."

"But should we, sir?" Potter turned to him uncertainly. He had been given so little instruction and guidance over the years, especially from Albus. He didn't want to make the choice.

"A part of Voldemort was destroyed in his school," Cúchulainn pointed out with a sigh. "I suppose we must." They stepped out of the room together and Potter 'lead' the Irish wizard through the school, receiving some curious looks.

"You say his name." The Gryffindor pointed out quietly on the way. "Voldemort. Only me and Dumbledore say it. Everyone else is afraid they can summon him just by saying it."

"It is a valid fear. During the first War, Voldemort was a Summoning Taboo." Severus explained lowly. "The name called the attention of Death Eaters. People disappeared often back then. If he ever regains his power properly, mind not to call him Voldemort."

"Oh," Potter's eyes widened as he imagined the reign of terror that ran rampant years ago. "Why doesn't the Headmaster tell us that? What if Vold- You-Know-Who does that again?"

"You will have to ask him."

"Why do you say his name, if you know it's dangerous?"

"Perhaps I want him to find me, eventually."

They continued in silence for a minute before Potter thought of another question. "Did you meet You-Know-Who in school? You look about the same age and the way you talk about him..."

Cúchulainn thought for a moment. "We have met, though he would likely not remember me."

"Is he why you hate dark wizards?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Potter likely believed it was something like himself or some members of the Order, avenging and protecting loved ones.

"Because he takes children and turns them into monsters." Severus said quietly.

Potter bit his tongue and looked thoughtfully down the corridor as they reached the Headmaster's staircase.

"Mr Potter?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Next time, when I tell you to run," Cúchulainn told him gravely, "you goddamn run."

"Yes, sir." Potter replied, unsuccessfully hiding a hint of defiance. "Calderon cakes." The staircase hippogriff wiggled its ears and took them up.

"Mr Potter, Lord Cúchulainn, what a pleasant surprise." Albus greeted them as the door swung open, stroking Fawkes' head. He smiled, making it clear that it was no surprise. Severus wasn't impressed. He knew about the little glass ball that showed the entrance to the staircase from his own miserable days as Headmaster. "What, pray tell, brings you to my office?"

"I received a silver locket with an apparition of Voldemort inside." The Irish wizard stated bluntly. Dumbledore paled.

"Where is it?"

"Destroyed. Fiendfyre." He replied shortly. "What was it?" He already knew. The spy wanted Albus to admit it, wanted him to tell the boy something important for once.

Albus looked at Potter and opened his mouth to dismiss the boy. "I'm staying here." The Gryffindor interrupted in a stubborn rush. "I've stopped having nightmares. My shields are good enough, aren't they, sir?" He directed the last two words to his Mind Arts teacher.

"They will have to be," Cúchulainn retorted sternly. "He can stay."

Steely pale eyes met vibrant blue in a short clash of dominance. Albus skimmed the Mind Master's thoughts shallowly and found nothing but a strong sense of authority. Dumbledore peered over his half-moon glasses at them. "Very well. I trust you will train hard to protect our secrets, Harry?"

"Of course, sir." Potter replied immediately and sat down in one of the cushy visitor chairs.

"It was a Horcrux. An object holding part of the caster's spell to prevent death." Albus sighed mournfully. Fawkes trilled beside him, sending a breath of warm air through the three wizards. "The caster splits their soul through the greatest of crimes, murder." Cúchulainn smothered a snort. There were worse crimes. "The torn piece is then bound to an inanimate item or," he paused meaningfully, "or a living creature. It is how Voldemort survived the Killing Curse, I belief, and how he lives even now."

"But it's gone now, so V- You-Know-Who _can_ be killed, right?" Potter looked up at the powerful wizards hopefully.

"If it is the only one he made," Cúchulainn replied.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "Where did you find it?"

"Grimmauld Place. Sirius' house elf, Kreacher, was hiding it."

Albus got up, grabbing his desk for support, and shuffled over to his fireplace. He took a handful of Floo powder from the tin on the mantel and turned back to the others with a small smile. "Shall we?" The fire flared green with a _swoosh_. "12 Grimmauld Place, Polka Dots." The headmaster stated loudly and clearly, vanishing in a swirl of emerald fire.

Severus gestured for Potter to go before him, making sure the foolish boy went where he was supposed to. He paused to glance at the hand he had comforted Imp with and winced. The fingers were blistered, though thankfully numb. He knew magic and potions wouldn't help it much. " _Ferula_ ," he cast, covering the curse burn.

When he stepped through the fireplace, Black had already set up the kettle and was chirping happily with his godson. The dog animagus looked up long enough to shoot Cúchulainn a quick grin. Albus had sat down, watching them with a smile. The old man wanted the two to have a few minutes to catch up but Severus couldn't care less

"Where is Kreacher?" He asked Black, interrupting whatever inane story the Gryffindors were sharing.

"In his den, probably. I think that's where he goes when he's not skulking about." Sirius answered without question.

Cúchulainn walked to the kitchen with Albus on his heels while the other two had tea and chatted. Severus lead Dumbledore directly to the dingy hiding place behind the pantry door and pulled the cupboard open.

Kreacher cringed back from the light, clutching his beloved book and the broken picture frame to his skinny chest. "You won't be taking anything else!" The house elf spat venomously, baring his black teeth.

Cúchulainn knelt to meet his watery eyes better. "I'd like to talk to you about the locket, Kreacher." He said evenly. He could feel Albus' surprised stare on his back. "I destroyed it. _You didn't fail him, Kreacher_." The spy added quietly so only the house elf would catch it. It was coming back to him in bits and pieces. The Dark Lord had been furious at Regulus Black's betrayal, though Riddle had never realized the traitor had been successful in taking Slytherin's Locket.

Kreacher's spindly fingers loosened very slightly on the book of wizard genealogy. "Destroyed?" He muttered, his ears drooping. Albus shuffled forwards, hoping to reassure the elf, when he whooped loudly and lept from the cubbie, dropping the book to enthusiastically shake Cúchulainn's hand. "Gone, it's gone! Kind master Regulus died for it, miserable Kreacher bit it and kicked it but it wouldn't break! Finally gone!" The elf cackled, dancing and cradling the beloved picture frame closely.

"I'll fetch the boys, shall I?" Albus huffed, amused by Kreacher. He patted the other wizard on the shoulder and strode out of the kitchen.

Severus waited until the footsteps died away some and pulled out his blackthorn wand. Kreacher stopped dancing, watching the wand nervously. Before the elf could lunge out of the way, the wand traced a short counterclockwise swirl. " _Reparo_."

The Spellotape flaked off and vanished, leaving the glass whole. The battered, dirty picture mended behind the suddenly sparkling frame and reanimated itself, letting the young Bellatrix stretch and wave thankfully at the Potions Master. Snape blinked impassively at her.

Kreacher turned the repaired picture over and over in his hands, bulbous eyes bulging in disbelief and filling with tears. "M-my lord," he whimpered, holding the image of Bellatrix fondly and protectively to his dirty neck. "M-m-m..." The elf launched itself at Severus' robed legs, wailing and sobbing, just as the other three walked in. Cúchulainn fought the rising blush in his cheeks. He was too old for that.

"Making friends, Coal?" Black laughed at the spy's embarrassment. "C'mon, get off, creature." He nudged Kreacher with his foot, and when neither the order or the prodding worked, tried to pull the elf off by his skinny arms.

"Leave him be, Padfoot." Cúchulainn said, annoyed. "He will calm down on his own." He knew what it felt like to be considered less than those around him and had a soft spot for the hardworking, humble, loyal house elves. Dead useful too, few thought to ward against them. "Regulus Black gave Kreacher the locket. He betrayed Voldemort, in the end." He told Black solemnly. The dog animagus' mouth fell open in disbelief.

"Reggie.. wasn't a Death Eater?" He asked incredulously. "That little creep- why didn't he tell me?"

"He was a Death Eater," Snape corrected, not unkindly. "But not an evil man." Black's forehead wrinkled as he tried to fit the idea into his mind.

"Does he know if there are any others?" Albus asked, smiling at the elf.

Kreacher kept his face pressed against Severus' robes, shaking occasionally and sniffing. He pulled his head away long enough to shake his ears.

Potter was watching the elf with concern. "What did you _do_?"

"Nothing." Cúchulainn barked sharply. "Absolutely nothing." Kreacher tried to speak but only managed a happy little snivel and waved the repaired picture at them.

"You fixed the picture," Black guessed, pitching his voice above the renewed bawling. "That's quite a reaction for mending a bit of glass."

"It doesn't take much." Cúchulainn pointed out.

Sirius winced dramatically. "This is another 'more than one thing' thing, isn't it?"

"You'll grow up eventually."

"I should tell McGonagall that you taught me tolerance," Black joked as they headed back to the fireplace for tea. Severus limped inelegantly with the elf still glued to his leg. "Half the Order already thinks you're Merlin." Black tossed him a cup and filled up Dumbledore's with boiling tea. "You'd, ah, tell me if you were Merlin, right?" He asked, half-serious, as Potter sat down beside him and toyed with his mug.

"If I were Merlin under a fake name, why would I tell you I was Merlin under a fake name?" The Potions Master shot back dryly.

" 'Cause we're friends?" Black tried, wrapping his hands around his warm mug.

"... I'm not Merlin." Cúchulainn spoke with all the honesty in his body. He glanced at Albus out of the corner of his eye. The headmaster was observing them with an optimistic smile mostly hidden behind his beard and tea.

Potter cleared his throat, watching the green tinged fire dance. "How are we going to find out how many of those things V- You-Know-Who has?"

Albus leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. He tapped his fingers against the sides of his mug. "I will have a trusted friend of mine investigate. Perhaps we can find a clue." He looked at Potter thoughtfully. "Harry, why are you avoiding saying Voldemort? Fear of the name-"

"Increases fear of the thing, yeah." Potter rebelliously muttered. Black and Severus shared a faintly amused glance. "Why didn't you tell me about the Taboo? Saying his name can summon him."

Dumbledore's eyes flicked briefly to Cúchulainn before fixing on Potter again. "There is no reason to fear speaking his name, Harry, not anymore. There is no Taboo now."

"But there could be again," Potter challenged him. "Shouldn't you tell the students? What if, if Hermione went home and said his name and they were attacked?"

"Harry," Black cut in suddenly, "Harry, Albus isn't trying to hurt anyone. The Taboo isn't a threat anymore, everyone just forgot. A lot of us try not to remember the war."

"Ignorance can be as harmful as malice." Cúchulainn rumbled, staring into the middle distance. Kreacher had calmed down and was sitting at his feet like a loyal puppy, eyes fixed obsessively on the animated picture. "We can't afford to lose our memories." His hand raised absentmindedly and touched his left ear with bandaged fingers. "We can't afford to lose anything else."

"My lord?" Kreacher called, bringing Severus back to the present. "How can Kreacher help?" His massive eyes shined with excitement as he stood and saluted. It had been some time since he had a purpose.

"That's bloody ridiculous," Black mumbled darkly into his tea. "I lived with that bastard elf for _years_..." They ignored him.

"Protect this house," Cúchulainn ordered after a few seconds. "It belongs to you. Guard what you own. No one can ask anything else." He refused to take advantage of Kreacher's loyalty or perceived sense of debt. Severus had spent years chained because of his own obligations towards one master or the other.

Black sulked and snorted, but didn't attempt to contradict the command. Albus swished his wand and the time appeared in the air. **10:14**. "I think it is time young Mr Potter got to bed, and we would do well to get our rest, too." He stood and banished his mug to the kitchen. "Harry, Lord Cúchulainn?"

Potter frowned at the almost condescending words but hugged Black goodbye and stepped through the Floo after Dumbledore. Black caught Snape's arm before he could follow.

"Hey, Coal, what was all that about, anyway?" He inquired, puzzled and trusting. "Why was the locket so important?"

Cúchulainn looked his friend in the eye and sighed guiltily. "It had a piece of Voldemort in it. I destroyed it. I'm sorry."

"Hi, Sorry. I'm Sirius." Sirius said, deadpan.

Severus blinked, opening and closing his mouth, and felt his lips pull into a smile before he could help himself. Sirius grinned proudly and threw his arm over Snape's shoulder. " _Seriously_ , don't worry about the locket. From the sound of things, you did the right thing."

Cúchulainn rolled his eyes at the pun and felt his body relax in relief. He hadn't thought he'd fear Black's hatred so much. He was far too old to worry about that sort of thing, or so he thought.

Sirius was still beaming, "Next week?" He asked fearlessly. Cúchulainn nodded his head with feigned reluctance and freed himself from Black's arm, activating the Floo.

"Next week." He promised, and vanished in the flames.

* * *

 **Slytherin's Locket was gold in the books, but I have changed it to silver for the purpose of the story. Silver is befitting the colour scheme of Slytherin.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4- Many a time a man's mouth broke his nose**

 **September 9**

Severus dismissed the grumbling Gryffindors on Monday, hiding a smirk. He took pleasure in the small things, like surprise tests and horribly complex brewing sessions. He swished his wand to close the door. The click sounded oddly muffled, as though there was something between the lock and Severus.

 _Homenum Revelio_ , Severus thought as he tucked his wand away. A shimmering red light appeared in front of the door and quickly scuttled to the corner. Short, thin, invisible, it had to be Potter. _Probably hoping to steal some ingredients_ , he scoffed mentally, _or catch me torturing students._ He dearly wished Cúchulainn could send the invisibility cloak flying and give Potter a fright.

Feigning interest in the papers on his desk, Severus wandlessly lifted a chair a few centimeters and set it in Potter's way. The invisible intruder tripped into a the tables, knocking off several dirty cauldrons. The seventh years had made Essence of Murtlap and the salve formed a sticky coating on every surface it touched, leaving a fine mess over the student and their immediate surroundings.

Severus was up and across the room in two steps. He snagged the edge of the invisibility cloak and tossed it to the corner of the room in one smooth movement. Hermione's terrified eyes peeked out from her frizzy hair, clutching fearfully at the sticky edge of the standing table. The Potions Master froze was surprised, though he knew nothing showed on his face. He grabbed her arm and hauled the Gryffindor to her feet.

"Detention with Filch, miss Granger." He said softly. "And for every lie you attempt to tell, I will take away twenty points. Explain."

Granger desperately opened and closed her mouth. Severus could almost hear her consider and discard dozens of ideas before her face crumbled.

" _I.. I... I need Essence of Murtlap..._ " She whispered miserably, tugging the student robes protectively around her. " _I.. I'm sorry, sir._ " Her brown eyes were watering pathetically and Severus swallowed down a laugh. Granger would have been a good Slytherin. If she had been, she would have known that tactic wouldn't work on the Head of House.

"Has it not occurred to you to approach Madame Pomfrey?" Snape sneered, arching an eyebrow. "At the very least, she would be more forgiving of _theft_." He caught a flare of anger in the muggleborn's eyes before she bowed her head shamefully. _Cúchulainn should work with her more,_ he thought. _She'd make a fine apprentice_.

" _I don't want anyone to know, sir_..." Granger ground her teeth slightly but disguised the movement as an embarrassed wince. " _It's a.. private problem._." She wisely kept her voice small to avoid revealing too much emotion.

Severus felt his level of respecting rise grudgingly the longer he spoke to her. "It's for Potter, than." He summoned the cloak with a gesture and dropped it in Granger's hands. _Potter should ward it against summoning,_ he thought. "Twenty points from Gryffindor. Madame Pomfrey won't ask questions." He turned his back on her meaningfully, approaching his desk. His sharp ears caught a faint scraping sound behind him and waited patiently until Granger was finished to turn around with a vicious glare. "Well? Go on, fool girl. I won't be writing you a note when you're late."

Granger bobbed her head obediently, hiding the heat of her glare behind a nervous expression. The cloak was over her hand, blocking it from view, but the large swathes of clean cauldron and cleared table beside her made it obvious what she was clutching close to her chest. The Gryffindor hurried out of the room without another word.

Severus sat down at his desk again and tapped his long fingers on the wooden surface. _It was worth it,_ he told himself. Worth being caught so a clever young witch could die quickly and with hope. He hadn't done much good in the months before it, watching helpless children and muggles cruelly cut down. Severus would never repeat it, but it had been worth it.

He locked the door and cleaned the room with a quite spell. He had an hour and a half before dinner so he got started on his marking, mind numbing as it was. It was one of the few things from his old life he hadn't missed. Severus had finished the sixth year essays on Liquid Luck when the back of his neck tingled and he looked up.

Fawkes stood on the back of one of the chairs, watching the spy. He tilted his head and trilled gently.

Severus tapped his quill against the ink well and dropped it in the holder. He folded his hands and rested his chin on the knuckles, staring at Dumbledore's bird. "Do you have a message?"

Fawkes tipped his head the other way.

"A meeting?"

The phoenix blinked.

"Planning an assassination?"

Fawkes shuffled his claws shamefully.

"Timmy fell down the well?"

He threw his beak up and sang.

Severus smiled slightly at the mythical creature. The infuriating bird tended to imitate his meddling master. It was strangely reassuring. He pulled a small bag of skittles from a warded drawer and allowed Fawkes to stick his head into it, chirping ecstatically. "Is there a purpose to your presence, pest? Or is this your way of telling me Albus is out of sweets?" Fawkes shook his heavy tail indignantly, pulling back enough to reveal his rainbow stained beak. The phoenix lifted his foot and pointedly wiggled his toes. There was a note, nearly hidden under his long red feathers. Severus carefully freed the paper and let the bird continue decimating his candy stash.

 _Dear Severus,_

 _There will be a meeting after dinner at Snuffles'._

 _-Albus_

Severus stroked Fawkes' back as he read the message. He passed it to the bird again and watched the phoenix burn the parchment with enthusiasm. The spy left the him to finish off the skittles and made his way up to the Grand Hall.

* * *

Severus stood uncomfortably in the entrance of Grimmauld Place. He had visited often enough as Cúchulainn, but nasty old Snape wasn't nearly as welcome. He wasn't certain where to put his feet and felt awkwardly out of place.

Tonks appeared at the end of the hall, trotting towards him with a smile. Her foot caught the troll hatstand and the spy sighed as Mrs Black's curtain ripped back. The Potions Master shot a _Confundus_ at the portrait with a practiced flick of his wand.

"Thanks, Professor." The Metamorphous laughed, embarrassed, as she righted the stand. "How's it?"

Severus paused. Even though he had taught her during his earlier years and they had fought side-by-side, he had never grown used to her friendliness. "Fine, Miss Tonks. The meeting?"

"Oh, right, dining room." She replied cheerfully, gesturing for him to follow. "You're the last, I think." There were gaps in the table, Bill and Charlie Weasley were the only red heads and Hagrid's absence was easily noted. Madame Pomfrey had joined the Order, though she kept a sharp eye on the Floo through the open door. One of the staff members had likely agreed to sit in the Hospital Wing and send a message if anyone was injured.

"Ah, Severus, Nymphadora, please sit." Albus greeted them, waving to the empty chairs. Tonks wrinkled her nose slightly as her red hair darkened but didn't bother correcting the headmaster. Tonks sat down between Lupin and Minerva while Severus hesitantly placed himself between Sirius and Dumbledore.

"Remus, if you would like to report first?" The ancient wizard prompted the werewolf. Lupin smiled tiredly and cleared his throat.

"There's a few werewolves that are willing to join us," he had to raise his voice as Black whooped loudly. "Maybe a half dozen agreed not to work with You-Know-Who in exchange for the Wolfsbane potion," Lupin glanced nervously at Severus, who closed his eyes for a heartbeat. _Wonderful_ , he grumbled. _Six potions to brew, on top of Lupin's and whoever joined this chickenshit outfit. Perhaps one or two of his seventh years, maybe Granger.._. "Some are on the fence. They might fight with us if they see we treat the other werewolves okay." Lupin finished and sat down. Tonks turned pink, grining at him.

Bill Weasley talked shortly about his team's progress destroying the remaining dark artifacts Black had given them and Charlie Weasley reported that the tamers had refused to lend them any dragons for battle.

Jones and Shacklebolt were next, proudly showing the ruins they spent three days carving into the crown moulding to prevent outside sources from setting up their own wards. Fletcher had formed some useful contacts in Knockturn Alley and Doge knew about some important trials around Christmas. Tonks and Diggle had little to report. There was nothing Severus could tell the Order that Albus hadn't already passed on.

Reports over, Albus issued his orders. Lupin was to continue picking away at the uncertain werewolves, Tonks, Shacklebolt and Jones would dig around at work, Fletcher, Doge and Diggle agreed to visit Wizarding gathering places and listen for rumors while Minerva, Poppy and the Weasley brothers focused on their jobs.

"Severus," Albus addressed the spy with a serious frown. "I need you to find something for us. It is absolutely imperative that you discover what artifacts Voldemort believes are important. If you find something that seems likely, tell me immediately, _don't_ touch it."

Severus felt his face grow stony as he hid all emotion. "Yes, sir." He said blankly. Inside, a spark of rage grew.

 _How_ _ **dare**_ _he?!_ Dumbledore was asking his spy to risk his life with vague instructions and even refused to tell him _why_? Cúchulainn knew, Black knew, _Potter_ knew! Did the old coot trust Severus less than he did a teenage boy?

The meeting ended unofficially as the members turned to each-other and started private conversations. Kreacher shuffled in to distribute tea, wiggling his ears respectfully at the Potions Master. Severus distantly heard Lupin lean away from Tonks to whisper in Sirius' ear.

 _"Look, Pads, the age difference-"_

 _" 'S not that big a difference-"_

 _"Twenty years, probably! I'd feel like an old pervert-"_

 _"I doubt it's that much."_

Lupin and Tonks had been in a relationship, Severus recalled, and paid the quiet exchange no more mind. He quietly left and wasn't terribly surprised when Black grabbed his arm in the hallway before he reached the entrance.

"Where do you think you're running off to, Snivvy?" Black mocked him with a vicious grin. Severus blinked impassively. _Oh, yeah, we're enemies, aren't we?_

"To do my mission, Black." Severus replied in a hard voice. "You see, I have a purpose."

Black flushed darkly, releasing the Slytherin's arm. "I'm not useless, Snivellus!" He snarled, balling his hands up into fists. Severus raised his eyebrow.

"I never said that. Your house has been useful. I said you had no _purpose_." It wasn't his worst, or his most cutting, but it was enough for the dog animagus to see red. He had been looking for a fight.

Black swung out without warning, catching Severus off-guard. There was a wet _snap_ as Black's knuckles broke his already crooked nose. The spy blindly dodged the second blow by instinct, was clipped by the third, and felt the fourth bloody his lip. Severus threw out a bony elbow, catching Black's jaw with bone-rattling force, and gave himself enough distance to bring his knee up like a piston.

Black managed a strangled whimper and weakly clutched at his groin before toppling over. He curled up on the floor, moaning pathetically.

Severus shakily cupped his gushing nose, his cold black eyes fixed on the groaning wizard. _They weren't friends_ , he reminded himself. Black liked Cúchulainn, but he and Severus weren't friends and never would be if the time-traveler lived a thousand lives. He stepped over Black without a word and left the house.

The spy had a mission.

* * *

 **September 10**

Severus didn't return to Hogwarts until early the next morning, just in time for breakfast. He received some worried glances from his house and many ecstatic gasps from the others. It took him a minute to remember he hadn't fixed his nose or lip. The Potions Master pulled out his old wand and tapped his nose, flinching slightly as it snapped into a slightly less crooked position, and sat down between Dumbledore and McGonagall.

"Where were you, Severus?" Minerva asked, glancing at his bruised face disapprovingly.

"Doing as I was asked." Severus growled in reply.

The Transfiguration professor bared her teeth at his tone. "You were gone all night!" She hissed. The rest of the staff pretended not to be shamelessly eavesdropping.

"I have been told it's an important job." Snape sneered coldly.

The headmaster looked slightly guilty and disappointed in his spy. "It is, Severus." He stated firmly. "I assure you, it's far more important than your petty rivalries."

Severus opened his mouth, _Black struck first, he would have beaten me into the ground, I gave him_ _ **four fucking chances**_ _to stop,_ and shut it again with a hostile click. "Yes, sir." He said.

"Did you find anything last night?"

"No, sir. I'll go out again tonight, sir." He continued impassively.

Albus sighed, shaking his head sadly. "I'm not your enemy, Severus. We are all on the same side." He peered over his half-moon glasses with a displeased frown.

Severus' face remained lifelessly deadpan. "I know, _sir_." He almost felt like nothing had changed, the spy was still imprisoned and had no tongue to protest with. The time-traveler could change the fates of others, but not himself. Snape mentally slapped himself, attempting to shake off his self-pity.

Albus exhaled deeply and took a calming sip of sweet tea. Minerva watched the Potions Master stare over the hall through dull blackened eyes with a twinge of concern. She caught a glimpse of Poppy glance over Flitwick's head at their grim colleague and shared a meaningful look.

The two witches accosted Severus in the teacher's entry hall after breakfast, each taking an arm. He didn't struggle as they dragged him to the Hospital Wing and his silence only worried them more.

Severus felt a sense of alarm trying to breach the inner numbness as Minerva pushed him into a chair and Poppy wavered her wand in a diagnosis spell. He could feel a terrible freezing weight from the necklace slowly choking him but didn't dare bring it out. Albus had been cursed by it before and Severus wouldn't let it happen again. He would be rid of it after dinner, when he could get a few minutes alone in the Come-and-Go Room.

"Why in Avalon do you have Fiendfyre burns?" Poppy exclaimed, vanishing the bandages on his hand and raising his fingers up to the light. Imp's burn had left thick, yellow blisters and dark red curse marks reaching down towards his palm. She pushed the sleeve of his right arm up to show the first lick the Fiend had left. It was faded, but deeper. "Honestly, Severus! Couldn't you have come in earlier?"

The spy tried to breach the fog of indifference and think up an excuse but couldn't summon the energy to reply. He leaned back and closed his eyes. Severus missed the nearly frantic look Poppy gave Minerva.

" _Keep him awake and responding,_ " the mediwitch hissed in the cat animagus' ear on her way to her potions store.

Minerva shook the wizard's shoulder until his black eyes fixed flatly on her. "Report, Severus," she ordered, her voice wavering noticeably. "What did you find last night?"

Years of obedience overtook the Horcrux induced hollowness. "The Dark Lord had a connection with the Gaunt Estate. I searched it thoroughly last night. There was a ring in a box under the floorboards."

Minerva drew in a sharp breath. "You found something? You told Albus otherwise."

"It'd kill him." Severus murmured tiredly, lifting his left hand to the base of his neck distractedly. The Dark Mark twinged painfully the closer it got to the Horcrux. "He can't know I have it."

The witch reached towards him and hesitated. "May I see, Severus?"

The Potions Master appreciated the pretense of choice and nodded. Minerva unbuttoned the top of his heavy robes, pulling the necklace out carefully. The heavy golden, black stone ring gleamed coldly and Severus realized he was shivering. She cautiously pulled the chain over his head. Severus felt suddenly weightless, perking up in his seat. The terrible blankness evaporated.

Minerva's eyes were fixed on the ring, her hand trembling and her face paling. "What _is_ it?"

"Something important to the Dark Lord," Severus replied, resisting the urge to take the ring back. He needed a few minutes of clarity first. "I was going to destroy it with Fiendfyre tonight."

Poppy returned carrying a box of jars and vials. "What's that?"

"A wretched evil thing," Minerva spat, dropping it in the bedside table top drawer and slamming it shut. Severus' hand itched.

The mediwitch frowned down at it before addressing her patient. "You seem to be feeling better already." She commented, relieved. She dropped a Pepper-up and Cheer potion in his left hand and pulled the other one into her lap. Severus reluctantly downed the vials as Poppy rubbed burn salve liberally on his burns and fixed his bruised face as an afterthought. The lingering chill lodged in his chest finally thawed.

The door clicked open and Albus stuck his head in warily. "Severus? How are you, my boy?" He kept most of his body hidden behind the wooden entrance. Poppy had cursed him before for working his staff too hard.

Severus stiffened, ashamed, and looked down. "Better, Albus. Just tired." He didn't apologize; it would only worry the others further.

"A mix of Wolfsbane fumes and no sleep, headmaster." Poppy told him after a moment. "Severus has also burnt his hand on a caldron, poor boy, I think he could use a day off." The steely glimmer in her glare showed that, as a healer, she was ordering Albus to give the Potions Master a day off.

Albus smiled sadly at his spy, letting the door swing open fully and shuffling to the Slytherin's side to pat his leg comfortingly. "I'm sure I can cover one day of classes. I was a professor, after all, only a few decades ago. Rest, my boy," the headmaster squeezed Severus' knee and left.

"Thank you," Severus muttered softly to the witches. He reached for the drawer but was stopped by Minerva.

"Leave it for tonight," she told him. "We will get rid of it after curfew."

The Potions Master wrinkled his forehead. "We?" He asked in disbelief.

"We." Poppy repeated stubbornly.

* * *

The Room of Requirement had molded itself into the dueling chamber, warded against curses and spells and completely bare of furniture. Minerva lead the way in, levitating the ring before her with Severus and Poppy following closely behind. The Transfiguration professor lowered the ring to the stone ground.

"Fiendfyre?" She inquired. Severus nodded. "You can control it?" Poppy was holding a large jar of burn salve and pointedly shook it.

"I can control it. Stand back," he said. " _Belluastrina_." Imp burst into existence enthusiastically, filling the room in seconds. The Fiend crackled a gleeful greeting, flicking her inferno tongue in his direction without touching him. Her titanic nose turned to the witches and she reared experimentally. "No, Imp." Severus snapped. Imp instantly shied away from the alarmed women. "Destroy the ring." The Fiend perked up again and slammed her imposing length down on the Resurrection Stone, leaving nothing but ash.

"Impressive," Poppy said faintly as Imp curled affectionately around them, careful to avoid injuring the humans. "How on earth did you get it to listen to you?"

"Fear, bullying and name-calling," Severus replied dryly, " _Phasmanicula_." A transparent hand appeared over Imp's head and rubbed her flaming scales. The floor shook with her fiery rumbling. " _Malinguo_." The Fiend faded reluctantly back to wherever the magic had summoned her from.

"You have a Fiend as a pet," wondered Minerva, shaking her head and vanishing the Horcrux residue. "Did you burn your hand rubbing its belly?" She joked.

"Ha, ha," Severus rolled his eyes. "Why bother with a wand, you could slay Death Eaters with that wit." Poppy checked his hand to make sure Imp hadn't hurt him somehow and stowed the jar away in her voluminous healer robes, slightly disappointed.

"What are we going to tell Albus?" The Mediwitch asked quietly. They all looked at the sooty floor. She cleared her throat. "Shall we vote? I say tell him nothing."

"I agree," Minerva stated with a tiny smile on her thin lips. "What could Albus do now, anyway? The ring is gone."

Severus raised both eyebrows in surprise. "Do you two often keep secrets from the headmaster?"

"I'm sure we aren't the only ones," the cat animagus commented. "I recall you had a rather thick Irish accent during your school years..."

"Didn't Cúchulainn have bandages on his right hand at the meeting?" Poppy added sweetly. They grinned evilly while Severus shook his head in defeat and sighed.

"We tell Albus nothing?" Prompted the spy hopefully.

"We tell Albus nothing." The witches agreed.

* * *

 **September 11**

Severus felt the Irish coin in his pocket vibrate while he sat in his office, catching up on the marking Albus had successfully dodged. _Tempus_ , the Potions Master cast. **8:17**. He stretched, cracking his stiff spine, and slipped the silver hound ring on. Severus summoned a vial of lemongrass essence, dropping some on his wrists and neck. He transformed smoothly into the Great Horned owl and winged his way silently up from the dungeons into the open evening air.

The black owl skimmed over the tops of the trees until he felt the edge of Hogwart's wards. He folded his wings elegantly, diving down into a thestral field. The skeletal winged horses raised their scaly heads briefly before losing interest in the animagus. Severus shifted back into a human, double-checked his illusions and transfigured his robes into classic green dueling clothes. He Apperated with a muffled crack into the alleyway across from Grimmauld Place.

Cúchulainn strode across the street and stepped up to Number 12's entrance. He raised his fist to knock, stopped, and opened the door without letting a hint of reluctance appear on his impassive face. Even indoors, he could feel the cold moonlight.

A giant black dog dashed towards him, tail whipping back and forth furiously. Padfoot skid to a halt, wiggling gleefully, and licked his hand.

"Hullo, Padfoot," Cúchulainn greeted him. Part of the Irish wizard wanted to kick and curse the mutt. He patted the dog's head instead. "Where is Moony?"

The dog animagus barked and raced down the hallway, leading Cúchulainn down into the basement. He pawed at the door and whined until the Mind Master opened it for him. The werewolf was curled up on his faded couch, broad muzzle wedged miserably under his human-like paws. Moony thumped his skinny tail twice. Padfoot jumped up next to him and they both watched Cúchulainn expectantly.

The wizard huffed, ignoring the slight shudder of fear he felt at the sight of a werewolf. He turned into an owl and fluttered onto the back of a large armchair.

" _Didn't interrupt anything, did we?_ " Padfoot lolled his tongue in a wide dog grin.

Coalfeather clacked his beak. " _Would you care if you had?_ " He ruffled his wings and turned his head to fix a burning golden gaze on Moony. The werewolf opened his mouth in an uncertain, submissive smile. " _Are we staying here?_ "

Padfoot's eyes flashed mischievously. " _We certainly don't have to._ " Moony lifted his nose, ears perking forwards.

" _It's not safe,_ " the werewolf whimpered reluctantly, " _what if I hurt someone?_ "

" _Come off it, Moony, you're taking the Wolfsbane. It's perfectly safe!_ _We can Apparate to the Forbidden Forest and run around like the good old days._ " He fearlessly shifted into his human form and pulled the werewolf from the couch by one long forearm. There was a terrible purple bruise across his jaw. "Maybe we'll have time to say hi to Harry in the morning. He was asking after Hagrid and he's been having trouble with some bitch named Umbridge." They vanished with a thunderous crack.

Severus remained human only as long as he needed to Apparate and immediately glided up into a tree to preen his feathers. Moony was sniffing in deep breaths of clear night air, his fur bristling with energy. He looked far less pathetic under the light of the full moon. Black flopped on his back into the grass and smiled nostalgically up at the stars.

"I should take you to Hogwarts sometime, Coal." He said idly, hands folded behind his head. "it's the best school in the world. Me and my mates used to rule it."

 _I vaguely recall that_ , the spy thought with a touch of bitterness. Moony stood on his hind legs and howled deeply, sending a bolt of terror through the owl's chest. The werewolf took off into the darkness, leaving Black to scramble to his feet and hare after him. Cúchulainn took a moment to check they were indeed headed _away_ from the castle before soaring silently through the trees. He caught up within seconds, floating gracefully over the two canines. Padfoot leaped playfully in the air, nipping Coalfeather's tail and getting buffed by black wings.

Cúchulainn drifted further up, head on a swivel. He spotted owls, rodents, the occasional fox, but no run-away students or skulking Death Eaters. He found he was even enjoying himself when the pearly grey light of predawn filtered in through the canopy and Moony slowed to a halt, panting happily.

" _How close are we to Hogwarts?_ " Padfoot barked up at Coalfeather, who perched high above them. The owl peered through the trees.

" _Three miles_." He hooted quietly, rolling his shoulders. He hadn't flown much in years, his back and wings ached.

" _Let's head over. I want to see Harry before everyone's awake._ "

Moony cried painfully, arching his back. The werewolf's skin crawled and there was a terrible wet crunching sound of breaking bones. Cúchulainn looked away, waiting for the noise to die down.

"We should go home, Sirius." Lupin said raggedly once he could breath properly again. "This was reckless and- and childish-"

Black threw the werewolf his cloak and shrugged lightly. " 'S not the first time we've done this."

"Yeah, when we were stupid selfish kids!" Lupin roared, balling his hands up into trembling fists. Coalfeather hopped down to the ground and shifted into his human form.

"Coal was with us the entire time, Moony." Black defended himself, grabbing Cúchulainn arm. The Irish wizard frowned at being dragged in the middle of their disagreement. "He's a responsible adult!"

"I'm not joking, Sirius." The werewolf snarled, poking Black's chest aggressively. The full moon shortened his temper. "What if I attacked someone again? I nearly killed Snape twice-"

"So?"

Lupin and Cúchulainn stared down disapprovingly at Black.

"And you were doing so well..." Cúchulainn said, voice thick with disappointment. Black flinched and released his hold on the other man's arm.

"Look," he began desperately, "you don't know him. Snape is a complete and utter bastard, he tried to break my jaw yesterday and kicked my-"

" _You_ broke his nose first!" Lupin countered. The two best friends glared each-other down, breathing hard. Cúchulainn cleared his throat roughly and fixed his cold, blank steely eyes on the dog animagus.

"You are an irresponsible child," he murmured softly. "Not only because of your actions, Black, but because of the casual cruelty you show to those you consider inferior." Black opened his mouth to protest but nothing came out. His face crumpled, near tears.

" _Black?_ " He whispered. "I'm Pads-"

"No, you're name is Sirius Black," Lupin cut him off mercilessly, "and it's time you _grew up_." The werewolf Disapparated with an angry _crack_.

Black looked at the empty spot for a few moments. "I- I-" He turned pleadingly to Cúchulainn. " _I don't know how_." He admitted, barely audible. He had spent a very long time in Azkaban, almost the entirety of his adult life. Cúchulainn felt a rush of sympathy. He was an old man and had lost all innocence over his sixty-some years of life. He knew well how to grow up.

"You start by minding your temper and considering the consequences." The Irish wizard advised him, awkwardly patting the dog animagus' shoulder. " _Think_ before you act or speak, Sirius."

Black bit down on his lip. "Okay," he muttered, "okay, I can do that, I think." He launched himself at Cúchulainn and hugged him before the Mind Master could get away. "Thanks." Sirius mumbled into the older man's robes.

Cúchulainn sighed but didn't push Black away, letting him calm down on his own. He was absolutely exhausted, it had been two days since he slept more than three hours and it would be a few days until the weekend. He didn't have the energy to resist Black's misplaced affection.

"Very grown up of you, Sirius," he joked, watching the stars fade through the branches. "Weeping like a baby." Black sniffled theatrically and wiped his face.

"Still want to see Hogwarts?" He asked hoarsely. The pureblood needed a distraction.

Had Sirius taken nothing away from Cúchulainn's little speech? "What if you were caught?" He pressed exasperatedly.

"I wasn't caught two years ago-" Black attempted. Cúchulainn shut him down with a trace of annoyance.

"You could have been. What would be the consequences now?"

Black hummed thoughtfully. "I'd go back to Azkaban, or maybe be Kissed. I- I'd never see Harry or Remus or you again." His eyes glazed over slightly. "Oh. So, consequences, huh?" He struggled to summon a charming grin. "Could a consequence of this childish adventure be breakfast at HQ? I don't know if I can face Remus alone."

"It's part of being an adult," Cúchulainn pointed out, faintly amused. "If Remus is too hard on you, start crying again."

Black barked out a laugh, "Like an adult?"

"Like a very sorry, slightly damp dog."

* * *

 **September 12**

Severus knelt down. His ears were full of the rustling of stiff black robes.

"Severu _s_ ," the Dark Lord called from his throne. His thin pale hand rose elegantly, gesturing the Potions Master closer. "What have you discovered about our Irish _friend_?" His serpentine face twisted into what he probably thought was a charming grin.

"He is an Animus Augur, my Lord." Severus told him with an almost unnoticeable quiver to his voice. "He appears to be in his sixties, greying short brown hair and pale blue eyes. He is right-handed and-" he paused as though racking his mind. "And he has a blackthorn wand."

"Where is he staying?"

"I don't know, my Lord." Severus flinched at his master's displeased hiss. "H-he is contacted by a member of the Order, who by and through which means I have been unable to discover." The other Death Eaters shifted away from him instinctively.

"His true name? More than a vague description of his hair? _Anything_ of use?"

Severus drew in a shallow breath of air. "No, my Lord. I have been unable-"

" _Crucio_."

When the pain stopped and Severus caught his breath in short sobs, Voldemort stood. He knelt down and whispered in his trembling spy's ear.

"If you continue to disappoint, my boy, I will have no use for you." The Dark Lord comfortingly patted Severus' wet cheek.

The Potions Master swallowed with difficulty. "Yes, my Lord." He mumbled weakly.

"I take no delight in it, my dear spy."

"Yes, my Lord."

* * *

 **September 13**

Cúchulainn waited patiently in the Room of Requirement, twirling the blackthorn wand in his hand. The door appeared on the wall and three heads poked cautiously in. The Mind Master nodded approvingly of their wariness and beckoned them in.

"Hello, sir." Granger chirped, dropping her bag near the door. "We've been practicing and I want to try again." She squared her shoulders stubbornly.

Cúchulainn smiled grimly. The clever muggleborn was determined to breach the Irish wizard's Occlumency defenses; she'd never consider herself good enough until then. "Fine. Begin." Teacher and student faced each-other calmly. Granger lifted her wand.

" _Legilimens_ ," she cast with textbook pronunciation. The spell washed over Cúchulainn's walls and he let it in.

Hermione looked around, puzzled. She had felt the spell work, but instead of a memory there was only the Room, empty. "Hello?" She called worriedly, walking to the door. It swung open and she looked out into the unoccupied hallway. "Harry? Ron? Lord Cúchulainn?"

There was an intense feeling of vertigo and Granger was back in the center of the Room, staring unfocused at the wall over Cúchulainn's shoulder.

"What was that?" She gasped, swaying. "I thought Legilimency let us see someone's memories?"

"You saw my memories," Cúchulainn replied with the faintest trace of smugness. "The Fortress is a tactic that involves disguising memories as a place you are familiar with. You are ready to learn it." Granger beamed proudly.

"What about us?" Weasley asked hopefully. The redhead still had difficulty emptying himself of emotion, though his Legilimency skills were fine. Occlumency required calm blankness, Legilimency was powered more by deep feelings. Potter, like Weasley, was better at attacking than defending.

"Work on your shields for now," Cúchulainn said, not unkindly. "Consider what form your Fortress will take."

Granger bit the inside of her lip thoughtfully. "Why was your's Hogwarts, sir?" She wondered. "You said before your Fortress was home... Did you go to Hogwarts?"

"No, I didn't. If you had walked down the hall, it would have looped endlessly. This location is the only area of Hogwarts I am familiar enough with to imitate." The Mind Master stated. "Miss Granger, we will begin construction of your Fortress. Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, take turns defending yourselves." The Gryffindors nodded obediently and settled in.

Granger sat down on the cushioned floor. "Would the Hogwarts library be big enough to use?"

"For now," Cúchulainn answered after a moment. His defenses were the entirety of Hogwarts, expanding over the years into the Forbidden Forest and covering all of Hogsmeade, including the Shrieking Shack. Granger likely wouldn't need such extensive fortifications. "Close your eyes. Picture the library as vividly as you can, the smell of dust and books, the angle of sunlight through the window, the chill of the shadows, the roughness of the wooden bookshelves," Granger squeezed her eyes shut tightly, forehead wrinkling in concentration. After a few minutes, she exhaled tightly and nodded. Cúchulainn brushed her walls, impressed by the brittle barricade the teenage girl had pulled together on her first try. He pushed through them without difficulty and found himself in a room recognizable as the school library. It had the shape, certainly, but the books had no titles and every surface was smooth like plastic. The view outside the window was of the wrong section of the grounds and the light cast incorrect shadows. The floors were realistic, hinting that the studious witch spent much of her time looking at her feet, and the ceiling was nothing but a blank white slate. Severus attempted to pull a tomb from the shelf, but found the books and wood were a single solid slab. He stepped through the exit and found himself on the other side of the library, leaving the storage room.

Cúchulainn slipped out of the simple Fortress without searching for her memories. "You understand the concept. Spend some time in the library-" Potter and Weasley snorted while Granger blushed, "observing the details carefully. The floor was fine, but the ceiling was non-existent. The more complex, the better."

Granger bobbed her head enthusiastically. "Yes, sir."

They continued the session until near curfew when Cúchulainn called a halt to the training and passed out headache potions. Potter paused at the door, waving the others to go on without him, and walked back to his Occlumency teacher.

"Siri-"

Cúchulainn cut him off. "Snuffles." Even in the Come-and-Go Room, the boy should remember to use code.

Potter flushed and took a moment to empty his face again. "Yeah, Snuffles. He wanted me to tell you that R- Moony hasn't forgiven him and he needs help again." The Gryffindor looked at Cúchulainn seriously. "Why are they fighting? Can I do anything?"

"Send him a letter of advice for disagreeing friends," Cúchulainn suggested neutrally, scratching his chin in contemplation. "He will need it." Potter didn't leave. "Something else?"

"I want to learn how to control Fiendfyre." The boy said obstinately.

"I won't teach you that," Cúchulainn replied immediately. "It is a dangerous dark spell."

"There're more Horcruxes, aren't there? What if I need to destroy one?" Potter tried.

Cúchulainn didn't give it any thought. "Than bring it to me." He snapped. "I knew a boy who summoned a Fiend he could not control. It destroyed everything in its path and killed him." Goyle hadn't been the same after seeing Crabbe devoured by his own cursed fire. The Slytherin was murdered by Bellatrix for defecting only a few weeks later.

"I can handle it!" Potter protested. Cúchulainn laughed bitterly.

"Handle it? You can not control your own emotions." The Mind Master looked down his bulbous nose of the furious Gryffindor. "Go on, boy. I will never teach you that spell."

* * *

 **Phasma means ghost or spirit, Manicula means hand.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5- I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known**

 **September 13**

It was late, but Severus didn't hesitate to barge unannounced into the house. "Sirius?" He called when he was clear of Mrs Black's hearing. "Siriu-" There was a click of glass. The spy knelt and picked up an empty bottle of Bearhugger's Whisky, a drink known for stripping the paint off animated portraits.

Cúchulainn pushed open the kitchen door and squinted in the dim light. Black was slumped at the table, his face pressed against the wooden surface in defeat. There was a glass near his elbow, half-full. He moaned piteously when Cúchulainn pulled him up.

"You're ditha-disappointed in me, aren't ya?" Black mumbled groggily, leaning on the Irish wizard. He closed his eyes to block out the bright white glare and Cúchulainn's displeased stare. "You- you've that look again, like I pished in your tea." He hid his face in his hands. " 'S not eas-easy." He said, shivering. "I can't go anywhere 'r do anything t-to help. I'm stuck here." Cúchulainn silently vanished the drink as Black reached shakily towards it. The dog animagus stared at the spot it had been for a few seconds, blinking muzzily, before attempting to focus on his friend. "Aren't- aren't chu gonna say something?"

Black flinched at the cold disgust in Cúchulainn's pale eyes. "It wouldn't matter if I did," the wizard nearly spat, holding his stony expression. "You are far too drunk to remember your own bloody name."

"Moony wo-won't tal-talk to me.." Sirius whimpered, holding the table edge for support.

"It's been two days!" Cúchulainn shouted exasperatedly. "Bloody hell, Sirius, Remus is probably still sore from the full moon. Invite him to breakfast when he's not busy and apologize without blaming someone else!"

Black looked at him, swaying. "Oh," his eyes blindly drifted down a few inches. "Okay." He pitched forwards, only avoiding the ground by scrambling into Cúchulainn's lap. He wrapped his arms drunkenly around the other wizard's waist for stability and talked indistinctly into his abdomen, "can you come, too?"

"To breakfast?" Cúchulainn guessed. Black nodded as best as he could without falling down. "Fine. I don't think you should be left alone, anyway." He had very distant, foggy memories of his mother staying up nights with his father. Black would need someone to mind him and make sure he drank enough water. The Potions Master never bothered keeping Sober-up potions, he had no interest in drinking and delighted in making too much noise around his hungover colleagues, Death Eater or Professor.

Sirius made a sleepy sound, crawling as close as he could. Cúchulainn sighed and gathered the dog animagus in his arms. He half-carried, half-dragged Black to the living room and attempted to drop him on the couch. Black didn't let go, firmly wrapped around the Irish wizard, and Cúchulainn lost his balance. He just barely avoided crushing the other man, landing with a muffled grunt on the cushions. Black rumbled happily and tightened his hold.

"Sirius, let go." Cúchulainn growled. He struggled out from between the couch back and the drunk with difficulty. When he was finally free, he summoned a glass of water and a thick blanket for the dozing wizard, and settled in for the night. If Albus discovered he was gone, he would probably figure his spy was out searching for Horcruxes or had been called to a meeting. It was far easier to lie at the grandfatherly smile of Albus Dumbledore than the twisted imitation of Tom Riddle.

Black mumbled something inaudible into the cushions and tried to sit himself up. Cúchulainn Transfigured a spare knut into a large bowl in case the dog animagus needed to be sick. Sirius pushed the bowl away feebly.

"What?" Cúchulainn asked, leaning in to hear better. Black muttered again, even quieter. The spy bent down lower, only inches from his face.

Sirius lifted his head with surprising speed and kissed Cúchulainn on the lips, eyes closed and grinning foolishly. "Thanks." He buried his head into the couch almost shyly, missing the Irish wizard's expression. Black started snoring immediately.

Severus leaned back into his seat and folded his hands together. He listened to Sirius snuffle in his sleep for a few moments before restlessly rising to his feet. He fixed himself a cup of tea, checking in on the slumbering man every minute or two.

 _He's drunk,_ Severus thought. _Drunk and stupid, doesn't even know who Cúchulainn is._ _Mentally, and physically as far as Black knows, Cúchulainn is twenty years his senior_. He took a long, grounding sip of tea and cast a diagnostic spell towards the couch. _Older, even, if one counted by experience rather than years._

 _Black won't even remember this_ , Severus reassured himself, leaning back in his seat. A full bottle of Bearhugger's could kill a dragon, though the Potions Master was reasonably certain Black hadn't drank it all in one go as he hadn't burst into flames. He made sure the dog animagus was still breathing and fetched another mug of tea.

* * *

 **September 14**

Severus jerked awake violently, neck stiff and painful from the awkward angle he had slept in. He could hear an agonized gagging in the bathroom down the hall, broken occasionally by wretched, self-pitying sobs. He had just enough sympathy to start the kettle and toast some bread while Sirius crawled into the kitchen.

Cúchulainn dropped the tea and toast on the table, kicking Black's leg as he went. The dog animagus whimpered at him, latching onto the Irish wizard's ankles.

"Have you learned your lesson?" Cúchulainn barked with the faintest trace of amusement. Black tried to nod but stopped with a sickly grimace. "Are you going to drink again when I go?" He shook his head weakly, reaching for help up. Severus pulled Sirius to his feet and shoved him into a chair. "Do you have a way of contacting Remus?" Black dropped his head on the table and groaned negatively.

Cúchulainn tapped the Irish pound coin with his wand. He pushed the plate of toast closer to Black's remains and walked over to the entrance to let Lupin in.

"Lor- Coalfeather," the werewolf greeted him worriedly. "The coin started vibrating, is something wrong?"

Cúchulainn pulled him inside. "Sirius wants to apologize."

Lupin opened and shut his mouth. "I- I thought the coin was for emergencies! Couldn't he just wait for me to visit? I'm by ever week or so." If he feared and respected the mysterious Augur any less, Severus guessed Remus would be pissed.

"He was drunk last night," Cúchulainn said bluntly, "very drunk. I can't stay here every day to watch him." He vaguely gestured towards the end of the hall and ordered, "fix him."

Lupin bit the inside of his cheek pensively. "Yeah, okay. I'll talk to him." The werewolf squared his shoulders and marched to the kitchen. Black had managed to lift his head high enough to bury his nose into the toast, moving his empty mouth mechanically. Lupin paused for a heartbeat before picking up a slice of toast and stuffing it in Sirius' mouth.

Black's bloodshot eyes jumped open and he spewed crumbs over the table and floor. "Moony!" He cried, wincing at the sound of his own voice. He groped for his old friend's arm and pulled him into a hug. " 'M so _sooorry_!" He forgot about his massive hangover and wailed at the top of his lungs. "I didn't mean t' be childish an' stupid an' selfish an'-" Lupin patted his back and shushed him desperately, staring pleadingly at Cúchulainn. The Irish wizard simply chuckled while Black slowly wound down into pitiful sniffles.

"It's okay, Padfoot." Remus assured him when the dog animagus calmed enough. "I was angry, but I forgive you. It's what friends do." Black pulled back to look up at Lupin, lip quivering, and his eyes filled with relieved tears.

Severus pushed his cooling tea towards him, sitting down at the table. Black took a deep gulp and nearly spat it out. Slightly more composed, he coughed, "what the hell did you put in this?"

"Calming Draught," Cúchulainn answered, drinking his own tea. Lupin grabbed the bottom of Black's cup and tilted it up, forcing Sirius to swallow or choke.

They shared an amiable, scant breakfast, Black sticking to plain toast while Lupin and Cúchulainn shared an omelet. By the end of it, Sirius looked almost human again, chatting and laughing. Severus checked the time with _Tempus_ and stood, catching the other two's attention.

"Going already?" Black asked, crestfallen. "I thought we could go-" he glanced at Remus and sighed, "thought we could hang out here." He finished with a tinge of bitterness.

"I can't stay, Sirius." Cúchulainn said, sending his cup to the sink with a snap of his fingers. "I will be back. God knows why," he added at the sight of Black's grin. "But I will. Goodbye, Remus, Sirius."

"See you later, Coal." Lupin called over the rim of his mug to Cúchulainn's back.

Black caught up with him in the hallway. "Next week?" He prompted optimistically, wiggling between Cúchulainn and the door without any trace of subtlety or shame.

"Next week," Cúchulainn promised. He had a feeling they would be repeating the short conversation often. The Irish wizard offered his hand and wasn't surprised when Sirius ignored it, yanking him into a hug.

"Thanks again, Coal." He murmured into the taller man's shoulder. "I know I'm just- just being childish and all. So, thanks."

Severus stared at the door behind Black. "You're welcome, Pads." He replied uncomfortably.

He stepped around Sirius and left without another word.

* * *

 **September 17**

 _I need the Room of Hidden Things_ , Severus thought, listening to the faint echo of his footsteps. The door appeared with the musical tone of sifting rock and he jumped inside, asking the Room to vanish the exit. He didn't want anyone to see him.

The spy strode through the mountains of abandoned treasures. He kept a sharp eye out for anything crown-shaped, scrutinizing several circlets and metal headbands before discarding them with an annoyed grunt.

It was three hours of mind-numbing scouring before he found the discolored old tiara tucked behind a large cupboard. He reached his hand for it, waiting for the tingle of wards, but couldn't sense anything. Severus frowned and drew his blackthorn wand, waving it briefly over the diadem.

"Nothing?" The Potions Master muttered to himself. Severus hooked his wand in the gap of the raven's feathers and lifted it from it's dusty hiding spot. Despite its age and tarnish, it was a very handsome piece of silver, crowned by the Ravenclaw bird with outstretched wings and a beautiful blue gem as its chest. The spy felt a twinge of regret. Destroying the locket wasn't easy, but it had defenses that forced Severus into action. Ravenclaw's Diadem simply waited where it had fallen, a priceless ancient artifact.

 _Voldemort was young when he made this one_ , Severus reminded himself. Young and arrogant to hide it in Hogwarts. He wrapped it in a black cloth and tucked it under his arm, hidden in his robes. The spy stepped out of the Room of Hidden Things and was about to summon his dueling room when he heard someone approaching.

Severus jumped into the shadows, casting a powerful Disillusionment Charm. He pulled his cloak close to prevent the fabric shifting and giving him away.

Weasley trotted down the hall, looking around warily. He was wearing battered, hand-me-down Quidditch gear and carried a stolen school broom. He entered the Room of Requirement and Severus caught a short glimpse of an indoor arena before the door swung shut. It didn't vanish.

Severus reached into one of his many pockets, slipping on the silver hound ring. He Transfigured his school robes into dueling wear and only dropped the Disillusionment spell when he was safely inside the Room. The door disappeared behind him with a thought.

Weasley had charmed Bludgers made of wadded up cloaks to fly at him while he guarded the rings. He lost his concentration at Cúchulainn's entrance and was immediately pummeled by balls. The redhead cancelled the charm and drifted down to his teacher.

"What are you doing here, sir?" Weasley puffed, face red behind the Keeper's helmet.

"You are fond of Quidditch, Mr Weasley?" Cúchulainn avoided replying, checking secretly that the Diadem was still concealed in his sleeve. The Gryffindor bobbed his head and clutched his broom closer to his chest. "How well do you know your tactics and moves?"

"My-my mind knows how to do it all," Weasley admitted, "but I can't get my arms and legs to listen." He pulled his Keeper helmet off angrily.

" _Your mind knows how_.." The Irish wizard thoughtfully repeated under his breath. "Have you considered what form your Fortress will take?"

Weasley reddened further. "Uh, er- no, sir."

"Try imagining a Legilimency attack as- as a Quaffle. Picture protecting the ring perfectly in your mind."

Weasley seemed to consider it for a moment, his face slowly lighting up into a beaming grin. "Thank you sir! I'll go practice with Hermione!" He ran out of the room eagerly with the broom, leaving the cloaks in the arena. The door sealed behind him.

Severus stood alone in the Room. It was a large, bare area. The ground was loose sand, but that wouldn't be a problem.

" _Belluastrina._ " Imp rose from the cursed flames and coiled around him enthusiastically. " _Phasmanicula."_ She rubbed her broad burning head against the transparent hand with a earth-shaking rumble. He pet her until the fire devoured the spell. Severus dropped the Diadem on the floor, catching the Fiend's attention.

Severus hungrily took in the sight of Ravenclaw's Diadem for a moment before sighing. "Destroy it." He ordered mournfully. The Fiend swallowed it whole and wiggled at her master for praise. Severus chuckled despite himself, summoning another ghostly hand to stroke her inferno scales. "You are a strange creature, Imp." He commented over her blissful crackling. " _Malinguo_." The blaze died down into ash as Imp's consciousness faded until her next Summoning. Severus vanished the cursed residue, slipped off the hound ring and reverted his cloths back to teaching robes.

The Potions Master wandered back to his quarters, deep in thought. Slytherin's Locket, Gaunt's Ring, Ravenclaw's Diadem and, he recalled, Riddle's Diary were all destroyed. Potter was a Horcrux, he knew, but Severus had never learned what the last one was. He had vague, corrupted memories of Bellatrix's vault, the Lestrange family one, being robbed when there was still hope and the demented witch being terribly punished for it. He would simply have to break into Gringotts and order Imp destroy _everything_. It could wait until classes ended.

Cúchulainn would enjoy that.

* * *

 **September 19**

Severus was halfway through the base of his sixth Wolfsbane potion when the Dark Mark began to burn. He cursed, vanishing the potion. The other five he put under a stasis spell and left bubbling on the counter. The spy hurried silently through the school, pausing only briefly at the gate to Transfigure his teaching robes and slip his mask on. He Apperated with a muffled _crack_.

The meeting was at the Gaunt Estate. Severus felt his stomach plummet and his blood turn cold. _What if the Dark Lord checked on his ring? What if he moved whatever Bellatrix had to another location?_ He forced himself to concentrate, carefully hiding his memories of the ring, and joined the others before he was late again.

The crowd of Death Eaters reluctantly parted to let him in and Severus found himself pressed between Lucius, recognizable by his complex black and silver mask, and a female Death Eater he guessed was Carrow. They were gathered in the Gaunt Grand Hall, waiting for permission to seat themselves at the elegant table set with expensive silver and china. Their master was at the head of the table with a glass of thick red wine, Nagini curled protectively around his feet. The Dark Lord watched them for a few painful minutes, reveling in their uncertainty and fear, before gesturing for the Death Eaters to seat themselves.

Severus waited for Pettigrew, Bellatrix and Lucius to seat themselves before taking his place a few chairs down the left of Voldemort. He had lost considerable favor due to his inability to discover Cúchulainn's hiding place. If Severus was any guess of Voldemort's moods, he'd say the failure hadn't yet become fatal, but it was only a matter of time.

The Hall was gripped in absolute silence save for the occasional scrape of a chair or rustle of robes as seven house elves walked in carrying platters, heads bowed meekly. Four elves bearing a massive cauldron between them scuttled to the center of the table, letting the cauldron hover smoothly and land on the wooden surface with a faint click.

Severus' nose flared and he bit down on his tongue, swallowing bile. He could see the contents from where he sat and knew instantly what it was.

An old female, likely the Head Elf, snapped her fingers and distributed the soup. Each Death Eater received a bowl of dark broth. The Potions Master heard several gags from the cleverer slaves and risked glancing at the Dark Lord. He was smiling, hands folded over his lap, and his snake-like eyes were fixed on his spy.

Severus felt a steel band close over his chest as he realized it was a test. He couldn't afford to lose anymore esteem from Voldemort. It would be the death of him.

He removed his mask with a trembling hand and placed it on the table beside the bowl, bullying his face into an expressionless facade. Severus picked up the spoon, feeling red eyes drill into him, and took a long, casual sip. He showed none of the revulsion frothing inside, simply inclined his head to the Dark Lord.

"Complements to the cook," Severus rasped lightly, breaking the silence. Bellatrix glanced at Voldemort and tore off her mask, devouring the soup with glee, but the dark wizard was watching his Potions Master with approval and amusement. A few other Death Eaters reluctantly swallowed down a spoonful of black soup, retching. Some vomited, one fainted and was dragged out by an elf, and Voldemort ignored them all, seemingly mesmerized by the sight of his loyal spy finishing his soup with cool indifference.

Whatever the Dark Lord had hoped to accomplish, he seemed satisfied by and released them after the more obedient and determined cleaned their bowls. Severus left his mask at the table. This had been a warning. If Voldemort was willing to overlook his failures, he'd give it back.

If not, at least Severus wouldn't have to relive this night many times in his sleep.

The Death Eaters Apparated away without the customary chats and threats, eager to leave. None of them would look the Potions Master in the eye. He had earned some respect and fear for his complete apathy.

Severus Apparated to the Hogwarts gate and made his slow way towards his quarters. It wasn't until he was passing the Great Hall that the reality of what he had done hit him.

The Potions Master fell to his knees and was violently sick. His entire body was wracked with terrible retches and eventually dry heaves, trying desperately to expel the sour burning in his stomach. The spy's throat was scalded by stomach acid but somehow, he could still taste the soup.

"Oh, Severus!" A woman cried from behind him. Severus couldn't lift his head high enough to check, but he knew it was Poppy. The mediwitch had trouble sleeping sometimes and would patrol the hallways with the other teachers. Poppy vanished the vomit and bile, kneeling beside the spy. She cast a diagnostic spell and nearly melted in relief when it showed nothing worse than an wretched bellyache. "Severus, what happened, what's wrong?" The healer grabbed his chin, gently forcing it up.

Severus closed his eyes. He couldn't face her. Poppy made a small distressed sound and pulled him unsteadily to his feet. The Hospital Wing was empty and it was unlikely anyone would enter so late. Even so, she guided him to the private room across from her office down a short hall, locking the door behind her.

"Severus, please," Poppy begged, taking her colleague's cold hands, "tell me how I can help!" The Slytherin shook his head over and over, struggling to breath.

"You can't," he whispered raggedly, barely audible. "You can't." He couldn't stop shivering. Severus felt like he would never be warm again.

* * *

 **September 20**

Cúchulainn waited like a statue in the Room, standing as close to the fire as he dared. His face, never the gentlest or prettiest mug in the world, was like carved stone. He didn't speak when his students entered the room.

"Are you alright, sir?" Granger asked, drawing her wand.

"Peachy," the Irish wizard growled. He shifted closer to the fireplace. "Get to work."

The Gryffindors shared a concerned glance. "I've been practicing," Weasley began cautiously, testing the depths of their teacher's foul mood, "the Quidditch Fortress, that is. Could you test me, sir?"

"Why?"

They were all taken aback by the cold reply. Weasley shuffled his feet.

" C-cause Hermione can't get through my defenses anymore," despite his nervousness, the redhead spoke with pride. "And neither can Harry. Please, sir?"

Cúchulainn turned away from the fire and looked down his round nose at the boy. "Fine." The blackthorn wand leapt into his hand as the wizard drew himself up. Weasley scrambled to prepare his walls before- " _Legilimens_."

The Mind Master wasn't kind. The spell collided with the ginger's defenses harshly, tearing through the image of a Keeper's rings like a dragon-sized bludger. He didn't bother sitting through any of the boy's memories and left Weasley's mind just as callously as he had entered. When his vision refocused, the redhead was sitting on the floor, clutching his head.

"Bloody hell," Weasley whimpered. "What the fuck was _that_?"

Cúchulainn felt a flicker of shame but crushed it ruthlessly. "We are running out of time," he snarled, clenching his hand around his wand. "You _must_ be able to defend yourselves! Before-" _Before you don't have a teacher_ , he thought tiredly.

"We've only been training for a month!" Potter snapped, stepping in front of his friends. "You can't expect teenagers to learn something it took you _years_ to figure out!"

"I was about your age, _boy_ , when I began spying!" Cúchulainn roared before he could think.

Granger gasped and Potter blinked, thrown.

"You were a spy?" Weasley repeated in awe, headache forgotten. "In the First Wizarding War?"

Cúchulainn ground his teeth together for a moment, collecting himself. "Forget about Legilimency. Your defenses could save your lives and the lives of others." He ordered wearily, facing the fire again. "Practice every day, every chance you get." Cúchulainn watched the flames dance. He hardly heard the students dismiss themselves a few hours later.

It had been almost painful, looking Weasley in the eye. What would the trio think of him if they knew even half the things he had done? He could still taste-

Severus focused on his breathing for a moment, tucking the silver ring in his pocket. When he was recovered, the spy slipped down to his rooms for another sleepless night.

* * *

 **September 21**

"I'll be gone for most of the day, Albus."

The headmaster glanced up from his syrup soaked pancakes and smiled. "Okay, my boy. What for?"

Severus pushed around the fruit salad on his plate. "There is a movie I would like to watch. It has been far too long since I've been in the Muggle world." He explained briefly.

Albus was surprised. He forgot sometimes that his spy was a half-blood raised in the Muggle world of film and electricity. "Ah, I see. What were you intending to watch, Severus?"

" _Seven_ or _the Usual Suspects_ ," the Potions Master replied even though he knew the names meant nothing to the elderly wizard. "I will be out for lunch and dinner."

"Have fun, my boy."

Severus rearranged his fruit salad until it looked like he had eaten some of it and excused himself from the table. He checked on his house as he went, making sure the younger years knew who to approach for help and that he would be available all day Sunday. The spy walked with forced nonchalance down to the school gate and Apperated to London.

Hidden in the alleyway across from Grimmauld, Severus slipped on the silver ring and spelled his robes to resemble a dull green combat jacket and worn brown trousers. The dragonhide boots he left alone, only another witch or wizard would recognize them.

Cúchulainn walked in without knocking and headed to the kitchen, looking for Black. He wasn't in the kitchen, dining room, main living room, or sitting room. Severus gave up and knocked on the Master Bedroom.

" _Gzzherch?_ " Black mumbled, leaning against the doorway with his eyes shut. He was asleep on his feet and wearing only red silk pajama bottoms.

"Hello, Sirius," Cúchulainn chuckled. Black's eyes shot open and he grinned sleepily. "Get dressed. I'll meet you in the kitchen."

The Irish wizard only had to wait a minute before Black, looking like a windstorm dressed him, stumbled into the kitchen and threw himself at the table. Cúchulainn dropped a cup of coffee close to his head and sat down to wait for the dog animagus to wake up.

"Not an early riser?" Cúchulainn teased him when Black peeled his face from the table and sipped loudly.

"Hardy har," Black rolled his eyes playfully, "Let's say I'm allergic to the idea of having two seven o'clocks in one day." He gulped down the bitter coffee quickly, burning his tongue. "What are we doing today?" Sirius wiggled slightly in his seat. If he had been Padfoot, his tail would have been wagging furiously.

Cúchulainn shook his head and asked, "How familiar with the Muggle world are you?"

"Traveled through it when I was on the run. Why?"

Cúchulainn pulled a small steel ear stud from his pocket. "This is charmed to disguise the wearer." Black tilted his head and let his friend spell the stud to his right ear. He excitedly summoned a small mirror and checked his reflection.

Black's dark hair lightened to an ash blond and lost its curliness, his greyish blue eyes became a vibrant brown, and his nose narrowed and lengthened noticeably. His stylized beard and mustache turned into a thick layer of formless stubble.

"This is a test," Cúchulainn warned him as Black rubbed his Transfigured face in awe."I will leave the earring with you. You aren't to wander away from Grimmauld alone unless there is an _emergency._ "

"Is your ring enchanted like this?" Black wondered, angling the mirror to get a better view of his profile.

Cúchulainn paused for a moment. "It is."

Sirius put down the mirror. "What do you look like, really?" The Mind Master stiffened and Black winced apologetically. "Sorry, I guess you can't tell me, huh?"

"Not yet," Cúchulainn replied. He tapped Sirius with the blackthorn wand, changing his rumpled robes into a black leather jacket, light brown undershirt and dark blue jeans. Few wizards knew Muggle style enough to dress themselves. "Do you have a wand holder? Keep your wand hidden but ready."

Black happily followed Cúchulainn out of Grimmauld Place. He took a minute to stand on his lawn, breathing in the polluted autumn breeze and soaking in what little sun pierced the heavy slate clouds. His disguised face split into a dreamy smile.

Severus watched Sirius with empathy. He knew what it was like to taste the air after years imprisoned and let him enjoy his new-found freedom for a while.

"Okay, okay," Black muttered eventually, gathering himself. "Where are we going?"

"The Royal Theatre," Cúchulainn answered, leading Black down to the bus stop. "Have you never seen a movie?"

Black trotted like a puppy at his heels, wide brown eyes taking in the dirty streets. "No, I haven't. Is it like the Muggle thing Remus got me?"

"Similar, yes." Cúchulainn briefly explained what a film was as they waited for the shuttle. He paid in Muggle change while Black was absorbed with studying the double-decker. The sat together at the back. Cúchulainn put his chin down and pretended to nap while the other wizard touched the seats, floor and walls. "First time in a vehicle?"

"Well, I fly a motorcycle and I've been on the Knight Bus," Black said, lost in thought. "It's nothing like this, though. Hey, are you muggleborn or something? How come you know so much about the Muggle world?" There was no derision in his voice, simply curiosity.

"A halfblood," Cúchulainn replied carefully. "Muggle-raised."

Sirius smiled and drummed his hands on his knees. "What are these movies about?"

"I thought we would see _The Usual Suspects_ , a crime mystery, or _Seven_ , a detective thriller." London whizzed by outside the window and Cúchulainn kept an eye out for their stop.

"Since it's my first time out," Black suggested slyly, "could I chose the movie?"

Cúchulainn narrowed his eyes suspiciously but couldn't think of a good enough reason to refuse. "Fine."

The two men talked, or rather, Black talked and Cúchulainn would occasionally respond until they reached the destination. It was a short walk to the theatre and Sirius pulled the Irish wizard to the posters.

"What about this one?" Black pointed at a movie poster. It had two nearly naked men kneeling back-to-back on a bed, one of them had thrown his head back dramatically.

"Wow." Cúchulainn commented dryly. "That is the worst film you could have picked. Thank you, Black, for choosing a homosexual soft-core porno."

"We can watch your movie next," Black argued, attempting to sulk around a sneaky smirk. "The poster says 'Erotic and Shocking!' I want to be seductively surprised!" The spy didn't need to read his mind to know the bastard was thinking ' _this is going to be hilarious_.'

"I hate you." Cúchulainn grumbled as Black dragged him to buy the tickets.

The movie was about as bad as he guessed it would be. Severus could hardly look at the screen without blushing dark red and hearing Black giggle beside him. He didn't bother paying attention to the plot. At least Sirius seemed enamored by the moving screen and mostly naked characters.

"We're watching _Seven_ ," Cúchulainn stated sternly as soon as the movie ended. "I need to get the taste out of my mouth." Black snickered. They refilled on popcorn and pop, paid for another two tickets, and sat down for the second film.

Black leaned closer so Cúchulainn could hear him. "Hey, Coal," He whispered in the other wizard's ear. "Thanks."

"If you keep saying that, someone might start thinking you're not a spoiled child." Cúchulainn replied sarcastically.

Sirius tossed his head back and barked out a laugh. "That's how I'll trick them!" He placed his hand on Cúchulainn's knee and squeezed it amiably. "Just say 'you're welcome', you miserable bastard."

The other wizard rolled his eyes. "You're welcome."

They watched the rest of _Seven_ in silence. As the credits ran, Sirius grinned and grabbed Cúchulainn's hand.

"Let's watch another one!"

* * *

Black stepped into the Headquarters threshold and tugged the stud from his ear with a wince.

"Next week?" Cúchulainn smiled grimly, stretching the scars on his face.

Sirius beamed and chuckled. "Yeah, next week." The dog animagus pulled the Irish wizard into a hug. Cúchulainn sighed but didn't struggle away, patting the overly affectionate Gryffindor on the back. He eventually peeled the other man off of him and ushered Black into Grimmauld Place.

Before he Apperated away, Cúchulainn wondered darkly; _what if I don't show up one week?_ Voldemort could kill Severus and the Augur would never be able to say goodbye to Sirius.

* * *

 **September 25**

Umbridge wouldn't leave Severus alone. He sat between Albus and Minerva whenever he could, but if he was a minute late for a meal the dratted woman would force him to sit beside her, battering her eyes cloyingly. She chattered constantly in his ear, leaning nearly into his lap and giggling horridly at every short, annoyed reply she could torment from the grim Potions Master. The headmaster found it amusing, eyes twinkling unhelpfully whenever his spy shot him a begging glance. Minerva and Poppy seemed concerned he would kill the Ministry official, a valid fear, while the rest of the staff would spend the entire time snorting into their cups.

Severus put up with it for his Slytherins. As foul an ally as Umbridge was, she made for a worse enemy. Even so, he had his limits, and he reached them when a pudgy fingered hand crawled into his lap under the table.

The Head of house resisted the instinctive urge to jump out of his seat, torn between disgust and rage. He hid it behind an expression of impassive stoniness and calmly pushed her hand away. Umbridge had drank nearly an entire bottle of elf wine over dinner and was bold enough to try again. Even Albus began to look worried that the Defense professor wouldn't survive to desert.

Severus bent down to speak quietly in her ear, watching the blush spread over her skin as she shivered, tipsy. "If you touch me again," he whispered smoothly, "I will make your life a living hell."

He sat back in his seat as Umbridge paled angrily. She pushed back her chair and stormed out of the Hall. Four houses and a curious staff watched her go.

"What did you say to her?" Minerva asked, astonished.

A snowflake of worry grew in his stomach. "Nothing." Severus sipped his tea. She couldn't kill him, at least, and he pushed the anxiety aside. "Absolutely nothing."

* * *

 **September 27**

Cúchulainn kicked a cushion into place and looked over the fruits of his labor. The dueling room floor was thoroughly padded with blankets and pillows. The Gryffindors would be trying something new that would likely involve falling down unnecessarily often. They needed to be able to defend themselves, and Occlumency was only the start.

Potter, Granger and Weasley crept in cautiously, stumbling on the cushions. "What's going on, sir?" Granger asked, taking in the soft ground.

"We will be working on physical defense today," Cúchulainn replied with an evil half-grin. "How familiar are you with the Shield Charm?"

"Harry taught us it last year," Weasley answered for them. "Are we going to use _Protego_ today?"

"As you already know the common incantation for it, we will work on it's other forms." Cúchulainn summoned a small phantom dragon with a complex _fwish_ of his wand. "There are five forms of _Protego; Protego, Duo, Horribilus, Totalum_ and _Maxima."_ The dragon inhaled deeply and send a gout of fire at him. " _Protego Totalum._ " The Irish wizard cast clearly, exaggerating the wand movement. The flames parted around them with a bright flash of light. It was perfectly cool inside the invisible bubble. The fire and the dragon vanished abruptly. "We will begin with _Protego Duo_."

Weasley and Granger paired off, firing hexes and defending themselves. Potter faced off against the teacher.

"What is the strongest curse you know, Mr Potter?"

"The Killing Curse, sir." Potter answered.

Cúchulainn raised an eyebrow. "If you think you are capable of casting such a spell, I invite you to try."

Harry Occluded his face and took a dueling stance. " _Petrificus Totalus!_ " Potter shouted without warning. Cúchulainn snorted and waved his left hand, destroying the spell wandlessly. " _Colloshoo_!" He knocked the jinx away carelessly. Potter's green eyes flashed dangerously. " _Confrigo_!" He roared.

" _Protego Maxima._ " Cúchulainn snarled, deflecting the blasting curse violently. Potter threw himself out of the way and the pillows exploded into a cloud of feathers. Granger and Weasley stopped casting to watch. "As you see," the Irish wizard said smoothly while Potter scrambled back to his feet, "the Shield Charm can be used offensively as well. Miss Granger, attempt to cast a different form of _Protego_. _Tarantallegra_."

" _Protego Horribilus_!" Granger cast quickly. Her shield bent with a white blaze when the dancing jinx skittered across it but held, barely.

"Good. Mr Weasley. _Titillando_."

" _P-Protego Duo_!" The redhead yelped. The tickling hex cut through the weaker shield easily and Weasley fell to the ground with a shriek of laughter. Cúchulainn cancelled the spell and gestured to Potter to prepare himself.

" _Wingardium Leviosa,_ "

" _Protego Maxima_!" The Gryffindor's shield flared immediately out of existence and the first-year charm lifted him into the air. Potter managed to land on his feet, face red. "Why didn't it work?" He growled, embarrassed.

"Start simple, Mr Potter. Mr Weasley, focus on strengthening your shield." Cúchulainn advised, repairing the shredded pillows. "Continue pract-" He abruptly drew in a painful breath.

"Are you alright, sir?" Weasley wheezed, crawling to his feet.

"Fine." The Irish wizard replied tightly. "Train until curfew." He walked to the exit as quickly as he could without appearing to run away. "Miss Granger, you are in charge." The door swung shut before any of the students could question him.

Severus appeared with a _crack_ at Malfoy Manor. He avoided looking at the south-eastern tower as he strode purposefully to the Dining Room. He noted several empty spaces and heaved a sigh of relief. The spy wasn't the last one to arrive.

The Potions Master took his seat without a word. The other Death Eaters glanced at him and quickly looked away. The head of the table was unoccupied. Bellatrix, sitting at the immediate left beside Lucius, glared coldly at the Hogwarts professor.

The grand doors swung open on silent hinges and Voldemort swept in, Nagini slithering behind him. The Death Eaters stood fearfully, eyes fixed on their feet. Severus looked up through his eyelashes and studied the Dark Lord. He was smiling, pleased by his slaves' renewed submissiveness following the Dinner.

"Severus," he called his spy to his side and pulled out the skeletal mask. "Sit at my right." Pettigrew shuffled down the table instantly, beady glower fixed balefully on Severus.

"Yes, my Lord." Severus bowed deeply, accepting his mask and new place. Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at him across from the table.

"I trust you have something of value to report?" Voldemort prompted with a twinkle in his slanted red eyes. Severus wouldn't be given another test.

"Yes, my Lord." He replied respectfully. "Cúchulainn is muggle-raised and I have reason to believe he was a spy during the War."

Voldemort sighed mournfully. "You have failed me again, my boy."

Severus tightened his jaw under his mask. "Yes, my Lord." He couldn't give his master a name or place of residence.

"I know you are capable and loyal, Severus," the Dark Lord scolded him fatherly, "why do you persist in disappointing me?"

The Potions Master swallowed with difficulty. "I am sorry, my Lord." He lifted his head to meet the glowing snake-like eyes. "I will discover who Cúchulainn is, my Lord." He swore fervently.

Voldemort's faint frown wore into an approving smile. "I'm sure you will. You understand you must be punished?"

"Yes, my Lord." Severus replied.

"Good boy." The Dark Lord raised his wand.

* * *

 **Jimkin Bearhugger's Whiskey is from the Discworld series by Terry Pratchett.**

 **There will be a hiatus following chapter 7 on the 18th until mid-December.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6- For truth, justice, freedom, reasonably priced love and a hard-boiled egg**

 **September 28**

Black was waiting at the door when Cúchulainn stepped into Grimmauld Place, the image of a faithful puppy waiting excitedly for his owner. He launched himself enthusiastically at the Irish wizard before he could so much as clear the threshold.

"I've been _sooo_ bored." He complained, holding onto Cúchulainn's leg as he stumbled to the kitchen "I kept my end of the bargain, though!" Black continued rambling joyfully when the other man shook him off and started heating the kettle. "Me and Moony went out for drinks once, but otherwise I've been stuck here like you told me to. Where are we going today, Coal?"

Cúchulainn put a mug down on the table as Black crawled into his seat. His lip twitched at the dog animagus' eagerness. "There is a carnival in Norwich. I haven't been to one in decades."

"Are you taking me to a fair because I'm a big kid?" Black asked teasingly, rolling his eyes. He wrapped his hands around the mug. "Do they have invisible horse rides? Pegasuses?"

"I might be able to track down a carousel, if you'd like." Cúchulainn joked, reaching for his own cup of tea. He winced and flexed his fingers.

Black jumped on the flinch, dropping his mug. "What's wrong, are you hurt? Can I help?"

Cúchulainn looked at his nearly frantic expression and chuckled. "Age and abuse, Padfoot." He replied simply, sitting down.

Sirius sat back in his seat, frowning. "You aren't _that_ old," he muttered into his tea. " _Dumbledore_ is old." The Irish wizard shook his head at the man's childishness, but some things about a person cannot be changed. "Besides, wizards live for ages. You've got another hundred years, at least."

"To be honest, Sirius, I'm surprised I lived through that sentence." Cúchulainn commented dryly. Everything ached and he had slept through breakfast, but Saturdays were the only days he could relax and he wouldn't spend it in bed. He slipped a vial of pain potion out of his sleeve and dumped it into his tea without Black noticing. "Have you eaten?"

Black laughed sheepishly. "Naw, not yet. I thought we could go out. On the way to Norwich, maybe? We'll be taking the bus again, right?" He asked hopefully. The dog animagus had an obsession with Muggle transport. They would have to take a plane someday soon, if he could get Sirius to promise not to touch anything.

Cúchulainn cast a quick _tempus_. **10:47**. "Fine. The bus leaves at noon and is around three hours, where do you want to eat?"

"The Bricklayer's Arms," Black replied immediately. A nostalgic smile floated across his face. "Me, Moony, Prongs and- and Pettigrew went there on new years when Prongs got shacked up. We swore we'd make it a tradition every time one of us married but Prongs was the only fellow who could trick a gal into getting hitched." He summoned the Transfigured leather jacket as he spoke. Black downed his tea, choking slightly, and stood. "Ready to go?" He asked while sticking the iron stud on his right ear. Cúchulainn raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat. Black waited for a moment before looking down. He was wearing nothing but his jacket and pajama bottoms. "Oh, ha, yeah. Muggles wear shirts."

The Irish wizard pulled out three knuts and tapped them with his wand. He handed Sirius blue trousers, a pair of grey sneakers, and a white short-sleeve shirt. Black wiggled shamelessly into his new clothes while Cúchulainn averted his eyes and finished his tea.

The two men stepped into the Bricklayers Arms at eleven. The pub had just opened and was empty save for a pair of waitresses in the corner. Black grinned roguishly at the young woman. The waiter blushed and took their orders, scuttling back to her amused co-worker.

Sirius ravenously dug into his fish and chips while Cúchulainn cut open his soft boiled egg, soaking the soldiers in yolk. "Fish and chips for breakfast?" He licked egg off his thumb.

Black blinked and shook his head. "It's nearly lunch, anyway," he defended himself, shielding his food with both arms. "Hey, before I forget, Harry told me you were a spy in the First War." He looked at Cúchulainn expectantly. "Well?" He pressed impatiently when his friend continued eating.

"I began spying on the Light side when I when I was sixteen," Cúchulainn fell silent, tearing a strip of toast apart.

Black leaned in with narrowed eyes. "Coal," he said gravely, "Coal, if you don't tell me a story right now, I'll _never_ stop bothering you."

"I wasn't aware I could stop you," commented Cúchulainn sarcastically. "If that's what it takes, fine. I caught the attention of some powerful people and took advantage of it. I was a boy, ambitious and cruel, I wanted nothing more than to be strong."

"What changed your mind?"

"Someone I cared about was put in danger by my damnable choices. I'm not a hero, Sirius." Cúchulainn told him firmly. "The exact opposite, actually. A petty and selfish villain."

"I disagree," Black stated with an easy smile. "When I was sixteen, I almost killed another kid and I've never found the courage to own up to it. Maybe you were all that when you were younger but people change, you know? A petty and selfish villain wouldn't risk his life to help strangers." The dog animagus stuck a chip in his mouth. "Fish stick?"

Severus studied Sirius pensively. When had the man grown up? In the previous past, he had been as callous and thoughtless as he had been as a student, hadn't he? Or was it the effect of time that blinded the old spy to what kind of person Black was? "No, thank you." He replied quietly. Cúchulainn popped the remaining egg in his mouth. "Done?"

Black swallowed the last few chips and tucked the fish stick in his pocket with a wink. "Yeah, I'm done. I don't have any Muggle money though. Do you?" Cúchulainn nodded and dropped a twenty pound note on the table. They walked in companionable silence to the bus station, Black _ooh_ ing and _aah_ ing at the lorries. The Irish wizard had to drag him past a telly store window and, when he turned his back on Sirius for a few seconds, stop him from 'borrowing' a scooter.

They made it to the bus before it left the station. Cúchulainn paid and the two men sat upstairs in the back, Black gnawing at his cold fish stick. "Why do you always smell like lemongrass?" Black wondered as the double-decker rattled onto the street.

"Keeps away the fleas." Cúchulainn quipped, warding the seats against eavesdropping with a flick of his hand.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Very funny, _Lord Cúchulainn_." He stuck out his bread-crumb covered tongue. "I'll have you know I've been flea-free since fifth-year." The bus hit a bump and Black grabbed Cúchulainn's arm to keep from falling. "The Knight Bus is great and all but you really don't get the time to enjoy it, do you?" He joked, leaning against his friend.

"Savour it, Sirius," the Irish wizard huffed, amused, "you only have three hours."

* * *

Cúchulainn stepped off the bus and stretched leisurely. He could see the top of a rollercoaster peeking over the old closely-packed buildings. Black was rocking on his heels, almost vibrating in place. The Irish wizard grabbed his elbow to keep him from racing into traffic.

Black gaped at the carnival. "What is that?"

"Ferris Wheel." Cúchulainn replied, buying a roll of tickets from a bored-looking girl.

"And that?"

"Rollercoaster."

"What's-"

"Sirius," Cúchulainn growled threateningly. Black grinned and took his hand, dragging him to the rollercoaster. Black pushed him into a hard plastic seat, dropping down beside him. Cúchulainn huffed and strapped them both in.

"So what does this thing do?" Sirius asked as the bar clunked into place. Cúchulainn gave him a wicked half-smile. The rollercoaster lurched forwards and began to climb its tracks. Black laughed, clutching the metal bar. "This isn't so bad," he warbled. "Ah ha ha, sorta like riding a br-" The cars plunged down and Black shrieked, releasing the bar to crush Cúchulainn's hand in a frightened grip.

Black stumbled out of his seat as soon as the bar rose, legs trembling like a foal's. "Can we do that again?" Sirius gasped breathlessly.

Cúchulainn chuckled. "Later, I think."

They spent the afternoon wandering from ride to ride. Black won a stuffed puppy in a game and gave it to Cúchulainn with a cheeky grin. He grumbled but handled the stuffy with care, shrinking and tucking it in his breast pocket next to the photo.

The sun began to set when Cúchulainn sat down on a stone bench with a muffled groan. "It's getting late, Sirius." He said, leaning back.

Black pouted through a beard of cotton candy. "But _Coooooooaaaal_ ," he moaned mockingly, catching the attention of several curious Muggles.

"Are you going to cry again?" Cúchulainn asked. Black stuck out his trembling lip melodramatically, eyes round and watery. He nodded with fake misery. "Shall I call Remus to tuck you in?"

Black couldn't hold back a grin. "I'm sure the two of us can manage fine."

They left the carnival in the dark, searching for a hidden alleyway to Apparate from.

"I'll see you next week," Cúchulainn promised.

"Where are you staying? There's plenty of room at HQ." Black tried hopefully.

Cúchulainn sighed regretfully. "I can't tell you, Sirius, and I can't stay. I will see you next week." He vanished with a crack before Black could reply. The last thing he saw was Sirius' sullenly disappointed face.

* * *

 **October 4**

" _Stupify_ ,"

" _Protego Totalum!_ " The red light glanced off Granger's shield with a blinding flash.

" _Stupify_ ,"

" _Protego Horribilus!_ " Weasley's shield shuddered but threw the stunning spell towards the ceiling.

" _Stupify_ ,"

" _Protego Horribilus!_ " Potter deflected it towards Cúchulainn and he jumped elegantly to the side.

"Very good," he praised them. The three Gryffindors beamed proudly. "Now, we will work on the Unforgivables."

Granger paled. "You aren't going to cast the Killing Curse at _us_ , are you, sir?"

Cúchulainn raised an eyebrow. "Educational as that would be, it's not something you could practice twice." He drew his wand and summoned a straw dummy. He pictured Voldemort, smiling fatherly and calling Severus 'my boy'. Sour hatred boiled in his stomach. " _Avada Kedavra_."

A green light raced towards the dummy and Cúchulainn quickly cast _Avis_ after it. A flock of birds burst into existence, scattering frantically as the curse tore through them. A small white bird dropped to the ground in a halo of feathers. "The birds also obscure both casters view, it can be both a risk and an advantage." He said coldly, banishing the birds.

The children looked faintly sick, but determined. Cúchulainn demonstrated again, summoning a pillow to catch the curse instead. "This will work on the Cruciatus Curse as well, but _Crucio_ has no light and it is easy not to notice before it hits you."

Granger's hand shot into the air. "What about the Imperius Curse?"

"Similar to the Cruciatus Curse, _Imperio_ is invisible. It can be fought with Occlumency. Mr Potter?"

Potter stepped forward bravely, setting up his mental defenses. His face became empty of emotion and he nodded.

" _Imperio._ " _Walk to the door,_ Cúchulainn thought.

Potter swayed towards the exit, took a step or two, and shook his head with a bewildered look. " _Down the hall,_ _left, second right, up the stairs,_ " Harry mouthed the words. It was the route he took from the Common Room to the Great Hall every morning.

Cúchulainn let the boy struggle with the curse for another minute before releasing him with an approving nod. "If you break a compulsion, act as though you haven't. It may trick your attacker into thinking you are still under their control."

The practice session was spent seeing how fast they could summon something in the way of a spell and how well they resisted the Imperius Curse. Cúchulainn released them ten minutes before curfew.

"Lord Cúchulainn?" Granger stopped at the door, nodding for the boys to continue without her. The Irish wizard glanced at her and gestured for the muggleborn to continue. She bit her lip and drew in a fortifying breath. "We are forming a- a dueling club. There's a meeting tomorrow at the Hog's Head. Would you be interested in teaching some of the other students?"

Severus remembered with a suddenness that left him dizzy. _Dumbledore's Army_. They had caused him trouble and gave him hope during his miserable year as headmaster.

"Don't go to the Hog's Head," Cúchulainn advised her. "A large meeting there will attract attention. Use this room for training except for Fridays." He waved dismissively, ignoring her fallen expression.

Granger glumly bobbed her head and left.

"Dumbledore's Army," Severus muttered to himself and laughed bitterly. Albus never had an army. The Order was ill-prepared for all-out war and flailed without his leadership. If the worst happened and the powerful old wizard was killed, the Order wouldn't go without a leader. Cúchulainn would step in, and maybe Severus would disappear entirely. Few would notice.

* * *

 **October 7**

Severus swept between the tables, black eyes burning furiously. He could feel Umbridge's piggy gaze on his back and had to bite down a wrathful growl. The students kept their heads bowed, fixed on the bubbling cauldrons. No-one spoke, and the Potions Master could hear every derogatory scrape of the wretched woman's quill on her clipboard.

The Defense professor rose from her seat in the corner, trailing after her colleague like a pink balloon. She tutted occasionally, sighing with forced regret and sympathy. When Severus turned to glare at her, Umbridge would smile smugly and jot another note down. He looked away, gnashing his teeth, as she stopped beside Longbottom.

"And how would you grade Professor Snape, dearie?" She simpered at the boy. Longbottom clutched his stirring stick like it was a sword.

"Only just better than you or Voldemort," Potter spat when his fellow Gryffindor couldn't manage a squeak.

"Detention, Mr Potter," Umbridge snapped, narrowing her eyes hateful. Severus watched her like a hawk from the other side of the room. The spy noticed her flick her hand as she moved to leave and his sharp ears caught the _plop_ of something landing in Longbottom's cauldron.

Longbottom groaned as his cauldron dissolved. Snape's shadow fell over him and he shrunk back as the Potions professor vanished the mess.

"Detention tomorrow, Longbottom." Severus said coldly. "You can brew this assignment again without," his eyes shot towards Umbridge and his lip curled, " _distractions_."

"Yes, sir." Longbottom swallowed nervously and added, quietly enough that only the teacher and himself heard, " _thank you, sir._ " The Head of House nodded sharply and strode away.

The period dragged on unbearably for both the Potions Master and his students. It was a test of self-control to keep from cursing Umbridge every time she smirked at him or sabotaged someone's potion. Both houses had noticed by then, but what could they do? Even the Gryffindors, who only an hour ago had been happy to make bets, were guarding their cauldrons when Umbridge walked by and counting the minutes in despair.

Severus cast _tempus_ and breathed deeply in relief. "Clean your stations thoroughly. Put everything back into its proper places," he ordered, erasing the blackboard. The students threw themselves into the task, trying to finish as quickly as possible.

 _Hem, hem_.

Severus gritted his teeth and turned around, tightening his hand around his old wand. "Yes, Professor?" He asked emotionlessly.

Umbridge stood in front of his desk, smiling darkly. "Severus Tobias Snape, for your inadequacies as a professor and your, shall we say, _dubious past,_ the Ministry is putting you under probation." She pulled a paper from her clipboard in the deafening silence and dropped it on his desk with a satisfied look.

Severus stared at the paper on his desk for a moment. "I see." He replied calmly. "May I ask what inadequacies you observed?"

Umbridge blinked at his tranquility but arrogantly raised her chin. "I have just witnessed no less than seven students destroy school equipment and receive detention!" She shrilled.

"Yes, that would do it." Severus commented lightly. The students were dragging their feet now, packing up at a glacial rate. "And, Madame, if I were to check your hands for traces of ingredients...?"

"We _are_ in a potions classroom," Umbridge defended herself fiercely.

"We are, aren't we?" The Potions Master's voice had dropped into a deadly murmur. "I truly dread to press, Madame, as we are both busy people, but what dubious past do you accuse me of having?"

"You are a Death Eater!" Umbridge snarled, her pudgy face darkening. Some of the students gasped at her blunt attack.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Ah, but by your own words, there is no Dark Lord to follow, so I can hardly _be_ a Death Eater, can I?"

Umbridge swelled up like a threatening toad. "Were, than! Headmaster Dumbledore has made some _suspicious_ hires in the past, _Professor Snape_ ," she hissed the title and name in a tone most reserved for the Unforgivables. "The Ministry won't stand for such lax employment standards!"

"Yes, Albus has had some _questionable_ staff recently." Severus said smoothly. The loitering students quietly snickered. "If you don't mind, Madame, I have another class in ten minutes." He turned away from the enraged witch and, as though an afterthought, fed the probation paper to the fire under his cauldron.

Umbridge stormed out and the students hurried to their classes before they were late.

"Professor?" Draco called uncertainly. "Father won't let her fire you, sir." The Malfoy scion promised loyally."She's a rotten woman and I'll make sure everyone in Slytherin knows. If the Gryffindors can thumb their noses at her, so can we."

Severus couldn't contain a small chuckle. "It seems I've gone temporarily deaf and missed everything you've just said. If I had heard you, I certainly wouldn't approve and advise you pin everything on the Weasley twins."

Draco grinned and nodded before haring off after his housemates.

* * *

Severus finished his last class and marched to the Headmaster's Office. "Peppermint," he snarled at the stone griffin. The statue jumped out of the way, letting the spy stomp up the stairs.

"Hello, Severus." Albus greeted him with a grandfatherly smile. He gestured for his spy to sit down.

"I'm going out for a drink." Severus told him, taking a seat.

"I heard about your and Sybill's probation." The headmaster said with a sad little shake of his head. "I'm sorry, Severus, there isn't anything I can-"

"I am going," Severus repeated slowly, "out for a drink." He stood up again, his face woodenly blank.

Dumbledore frowned sympathetically. "Please don't worry, my boy. If Dolores does manage to fire you, I'm sure Sirius would be happy to have you at Grimmauld Place. He gets dreadfully lonely, I understand-"

Severus cut off his reassurance. "Albus, I would rather be housemates with a dementor," he said dryly. "I just wanted to tell you I was going out for the night."

The headmaster peered disapprovingly over his half-moon glasses. "I trust you will be back before breakfast and that tonight won't interfere with your duties?"

Severus nodded and opened the door.

"Severus?"

The spy paused and glanced back. Albus was smiling softly at him.

"Have fun, my boy."

* * *

Cúchulainn stepped unannounced into Grimmauld Place. He dried his brown cloak with a wave of his hand, tossing it towards the troll stand. He avoided waking Mrs Black and opened the door to the kitchen.

Black was standing at the counter with his back to the entrance eating a bowl of soup and looking glumly at the floor. _Dreadfully lonely, indeed,_ Severus thought with sympathy. He snuck behind the man without a sound. He drew the blackthorn wand slowly and pressed it against Black's ribs. The dog animagus jerked violently, throwing the soup over them both.

Cúchulainn jumped back before Black could catch him with his elbow. He suppressed the urge to shudder as the soup dripped down the back of his neck and Black sputtered under a layer of luke-warm broth. "Cúchulainn?" He coughed, wiping his face with the back of one hand.

"Quite the tactic, Padfoot" Cúchulainn chuckled. He vanished the soup before it could make him ill.

Black laughed, "What's the occasion? It's a Monday." He dropped the bowl and in the sink.

"I've killed someone and I need a place to hide." Cúchulainn replied, deadpan.

Black nodded sagely. "We've all been there. Do you want some soup, Coal?" The Irish wizard hid a wince and shook his head. They brewed some tea and settled down on a long couch in the sitting room in companionable silence.

"Sirius..." Cúchulainn began reluctantly, "You've been _hinting_ at something lately." It had to be addressed before Black pulled something regrettable and dangerous in an attempt to catch his interest.

Black grinned anxiously, tightening his hold on the cup. "Ha, finally, I thought I'd have to stick my hand down your pants before you'd notice-"

"It wouldn't work." Cúchulainn interrupted him sharply. "You don't know who I am, my name, how old I am, _nothing_ , Sirius." His cold pale blue eyes fixed on him.

"I know you have a dry, sometimes dark, sense of humour." Black countered stubbornly. "I know you're clever and determined and brave to risk your life defying You-Know-Who!" _He had been practicing his argument_ , Severus guessed. "You've already told me that you're a half-blood and I know you're Irish and I know that we're get along great an' I like spending time with you. Can't we-" Black lost some of his nerve and looked away. "Can't we _try_?" He held his breath.

Cúchulainn took a long fortifying sip of his rapidly cooling tea. "I think you're just lonely, Sirius," he commented eventually. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"But...?" Black pressed with a pleading note, placing his cup on the coffee table beside him.

"But," Cúchulainn grumbled, "I doubt you would ever shut up about it if I don't-" Sirius launched himself at the Irish wizard before he could finish, hugging him tightly. "Bloody hell, Sirius," he grunted, nearly spilling his tea, "be careful-" Cúchulainn was cut off by Sirius' lips pressing insistently against his. He dropped his tea on the rug and hesitantly brought one hand up to wrap his fingers in the other man's unruly hair. Teeth nipped at his bottom lip, and he retaliated by tightening his fist and tugging.

Sirius leaned back slightly, face flushed. "Hair-pulling already?" He panted happily, grinning like a fool. "Kinky."

Cúchulainn gritted his teeth and tried not to blush. "You started it by biting." He muttered uncomfortably. He didn't know where to put his hands and hesitantly let them drop from Black's hair to his shoulders. Sirius wiggled closer, tucking his head under Cúchulainn's chin. The Irish wizard huffed and shifted to make them both more comfortable. "Don't fall asleep on me," he warned the dog animagus. Sirius smirked against Cúchulainn's neck and began snoring.

Severus huffed and leaned his head back on the couch, closing his eyes. He dozed, listening to the crackle of fire and gradually deepening snuffling. He was nearly asleep when Black stirred.

" _Wha'time's't?_ " Sirius murmured into the Augur's collar-bone. He wiggled slightly under Black's warm breath.

" _Tempus_. Quarter after midnight." Cúchulainn replied in a sleep-roughened voice. Sirius put his hand on the other man's cheek and tried to flail into a sitting position. Cúchulainn shoved him to the ground and Sirius woke up when he face-planted into a cold puddle of tea. "Why?" He asked, amused, as the dog animagus crawled to his feet.

"I was going to Floo Harry," Sirius explained, stumbling towards the fireplace. He missed the powder bowl twice. Cúchulainn, rolling his eyes, took a handful of powder and tossed it in the dying fire for him.

"Gryffindor Common Room." He stated. Black smiled at him gratefully and knelt down to stick his head in the fireplace. The Augur sat down on the couch and leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his entwined hands.

"It doesn't surprise me." Sirius was saying. "Fudge wants Dumbledore out."

Potter's tinny voice echoed out from the flames. "Why?"

"He's worried Dumbledore is trying to turn the students against the Ministry." Sirius replied with a barking laugh. Cúchulainn snorted loudly. _As if teenagers needed guidance in defying authority_.

"Who's with you?" Asked Granger.

"Coal- Cúchulainn, I mean. How's that Ministry cow at teaching?"

"Absolute rubbish," Weasley answered harshly. "No 'silly wand waving' in her class. We aren't learning how to defend ourselves!"

"That's the point, probably." Granger added. "The Ministry must be worried that the Headmaster will use us as an army. That's why Umbridge isn't teaching us anything useful."

"You think the Ministry actually believes Dumbledore would use _students_ as an army?" Potter exclaimed.

"He's done so before," Severus growled bitterly under his breath. He was reasonably sure no-one had heard him.

Granger spoke up again. "Sirius, Lord Cúchulainn, what do you two know about Umbridge?"

"Nasty piece of work, hates part-humans." Sirius told them instantly.

Cúchulainn pitched his voice to be heard over the crackle of burning logs. "She has considerable weight in the Ministry and can make your life a living hell if you cross her."

"Wonder what ol' Snape did to tick her off then," Weasley wondered.

Black pounced on the tidbit. "What'd she do to Snape?"

"Probation. Umbridge kept on sabotaging potions to make them blow up and everyone knew it. No-one's seen him since before dinner, too." The redhead explained shortly. Cúchulainn was surprised at the lack of glee in the student's voice.

"Could Umbridge be a Death Eater?" Potter pitched in pensively.

"I doubt it," Granger replied immediately. "If she was, she wouldn't have accused Professor Snape of being one in front of everyone."

Potter wasn't convinced. "But she's evil," he argued.

"The world isn't split into the Order and the Death Eaters, Harry." Sirius reminded him gently. Cúchulainn smiled in approval. "You were wondering about Hagrid, weren't you? He was supposed to be back awhile ago and no-one is really sure where he is now, but Dumbledore's not worried. Hagrid's tough as anything, he'll be alright."

"But if he was supposed to be back by now..." Weasley muttered. Cúchulainn sharp ears twitched at a faint noise. It was the chime of another Floo connecting to the call.

"Look, asking questions about him will only attract attention-" Cúchulainn lunged forwards and grabbed onto the back of Sirius' robe, yanking him out of the fireplace just as a stubby-fingered hand appeared. It groped around for a moment before clenching into a fist and vanishing, taking the emerald glow with it. Sirius and Cúchulainn watched the fireplace from where they had landed on the couch, hearts racing.

"My hero," Black joked weakly, melting bonelessly into Cúchulainn.

"Shut up." He croaked, closing his eyes. He tried to calm down but his pulse refused to slow. Umbridge hadn't captured Black, ever, in either reality. No, he had been murdered, and Severus couldn't recall caring in the past. Sirius twisted to look up at him, worried. "I don't think we should do that again."

"Yeah, okay." Sirius replied, patting the Irish wizard's arm comfortingly. "I won't. I promise, Coal." Cúchulainn focused on his breathing, pulling Black closer. _In, out, in, out_. The panic faded. _In, out, in, out_. He loosed his tight hold minutely. _In, out, in, out_.

The last thing he felt before falling asleep was a soft kiss on the underside of his jaw.

* * *

 **October 8**

Severus woke abruptly, stifling a pained gasp. His arm burned like the ink snake was made of red-hot metal. Sirius stirred but snored on while the spy carefully slipped out from underneath the dog animagus. As soon as he was free, Severus ran silently through the hall and out of Grimmauld Place. He Apparated quietly away.

The Potions Master drew his mask, he carried it with him everywhere, and was surprised when it didn't fit perfectly over his hooked nose like it should have. Severus felt his stomach drop to his feet.

He was still disguised as Cúchulainn.

Severus tore the ring off and hid it in his boot. He hastily Transfigured his robes into the black Death Eater's outfit and trotted towards the meeting place. He didn't recognize the relatively small manor but cast _homenum revelio_ and followed the concentrated glow.

He joined the masked crowd without being noticed, watching with the others as their master stood above them.

"Kneel," the Dark Lord ordered. There was a rustle as the Death Eaters dropped instantly to their knees. "The Ministry has grown lazy and weak, but there is one who may come to threaten the nature progress of our world. He is a Mudblood unworthy of anything save our disgust. He calls himself _Lord Cúchulainn_ ," Voldemort sneered hatefully. "Bellatrix, you will take a dozen men to attack the Muggle town Navan on the 31st. Lucius, your team will simultaneously target Cúlapa. The man to kill or capture Cúchulainn will be _greatly rewarded_." He smiled venomously and dismissed them to allow his chosen leaders to pick out their men. Severus, as a valued Potions Master, was excused. No-one would want to report to the Dark Lord the death of his spy.

Severus snuck away as soon as the crowd began to disperse and Apparated directly to the Hogwarts gates. The sky was beginning to lighten as he climbed the stairs to the Headmaster's Office. Albus was sitting at his desk in his pajamas when the professor burst in, slightly out of breath.

"Good morning, my boy," Albus greeted him genially, unsurprised at the sudden appearance of a masked Death Eater. "How was your night?"

Severus dropped into a chair and ran his hand through his long hair. He pulled the mask off with a grimace. "There will be an attack on Navan and Houndspaw, Halloween. There will be a dozen Death Eaters to each. The Dark Lord is hoping to draw out Cúchulainn to kill or capture him."

Dumbledore ran his thin fingers through his silvery beard. "I see. Are you attending?"

"No, I was not assigned. Bellatrix and Lucius will head the attacks." Severus replied casually. Albus didn't need to know he intended to be there anyway.

"Thank you, Severus. I will ask Sirius to pass on word of the danger to our associate." Dumbledore dismissed him with a wave and a fond fatherly smile.

Severus nodded and left quickly. He had a lot to think about.

* * *

 **October 31**

Cúchulainn drew in a deep breath of chilly fall air. He could smell the muggles burning leaf piles in their yards and the gritty hot stench of the rattling train. He pulled his paddy cap down as far as it would go, cold pale eyes scanning Navan suspiciously. His wool car coat hid his arsenal of two long knives, the blackthorn wand, and a sleek .44 Magnum. He knew Bellatrix well, even in a Muggle town she wouldn't be prepared for a bullet and it would give him an edge if he was disarmed. He had two Port-keys hidden on his person in case the situation became unsalvageable, one that allowed for passengers.

He leaned back on the metal bench and tucked his chin in, pretending to doze.

 _Crack!_

Cúchulainn stiffened and clenched a hand over the hidden gun. He rose, heart racing, and looked around. _Crack, crack!_ He spotted three black figures in the shadows and scoffed. The only place that black helped one hide was a cellar at midnight. He walked casually down the street towards them. The Death Eaters drew back slightly, waiting for reinforcements, as he should. The majority of the Order hadn't arrived yet, there was only a scout watching the town. Tonks, he thought. She wouldn't be recognized.

The Irish wizard stepped into the alley and smiled grimly. "Hello there. Didn't anyone ever tell you it's impossible to sneak up on an Animus Augur?"

" _Avada Kedavra_!" Bellatrix shrieked. Cúchulainn summoned a garbage can between himself and the spell, diving out of the way to avoid the filthy steaming shrapnel.

 _Stupefy_ , He cast silently, poking the blackthorn around the corner. There was a faint grunt and he braced himself for what he was about to do. _Bombarda_. He heard a wet sound and a scream as the spell made contact with the stunned wizard. He had no hope that it had hit Bellatrix.

 _Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack!_ Cúchulainn cursed faintly, casting a quick Notice-Me-Not charm. The panicked Muggles stopped running and wandered away in a daze. The Aurors could deal with the rest, if they ever got there. _Crack, crack, crack, crack!_

" _Avada Kedavra_!" Someone cast behind him.

" _Avis_!" Cúchulainn snapped, spinning to face the new attacker. A flock of white birds appeared around him and absorbed the Killing Curse, scattering into a cloud of squawking feathers. _Stupefy_. The Death Eater, the younger Lestrange by his mask, fell back rigidly. _Diffindo_ , he cast coldly, slicing the man's throat. He would have been revived otherwise. The Irish wizard threw up a hasty ward over the entrance of the alleyway to protect his back. He counted eight dark robes approaching nervously, pale masks tilted down at Lestrange's body.

"Kill him!" Bellatrix howled, attacking the ward viciously. The Death Eaters hesitated but cast simultaneous stunners.

" _Protego Maxima_!" Cúchulainn roared, deflecting the red curses. Stunners flew in every direction, hitting two Death Eaters. " _Bombarda_!" Those that could move dodged. When the fight was over, he knew he would be sick over the memory of gore and emotionless systematic slaughter.

Cúchulainn stepped behind a bench and listened to the chime of spells bouncing off the weakening ward. He tapped the bench, Transfiguring it into a metallic bull. He sent it flying down the street, scattering the Death Eaters. _Crack, crack, crack, crack!_

"Son of a bitch," Cúchulainn snarled, whirling to face the newest threat.

"Need some help, Coal?" Sirius asked teasingly. Tonks, Shacklebolt and Minerva were with him.

"Some reinforcements you lot are," the Irish wizard panted harshly. "There's eight of them, be careful." He waved his wand and lit the charging bull on fire.

"Eight?" Sirius looked at the blood splattered pavement and paled. "Wow, gross." The ward groaned, shattering under Bellatrix's assault.

" _Crucio_!" She bellowed.

" _Phasmanicula_ ," Cúchulainn snapped. The transparent hand grabbed the witch around her waist and slammed her brutally against the brick wall. Black yanked him to the side, shivering slightly when the invisible spell brushed past them.

Minerva and Shacklebolt had focused on the Death Eaters fighting the Transfigured bull. " _Stupefy_!" The Deputy Headmistress took down Dolohov, protected from returning stunners by Shacklebolt's shield. They switched tactics with practiced ease and took down another black robe.

Lestrange slung his unconscious wife over his shoulder and Apparated away. The remaining four, a third of the original party, turned tail and fled.

The Order members stood in the destroyed street, breathing hard. Shacklebolt rubbed his bald head thoughtfully. "I'll stay here, guard the prisoners and help the local Aurors clean up."

Minerva nodded, "We'll head to Houndspaw and help the others. Boys?" She vanished with a sharp _crack_.

Sirius snickered and elbowed Cúchulainn. "She called you 'boy'." The Irish wizard rolled his eyes and Apparated them both to the wizard town. He had scouted both targets over a week ago, familiarizing himself with the area.

The fighting was over when the arrived. There were three Death Eaters bound by _incarcerous._ Severus recognized Gibbon and Rowle by their masks. Moody stood over them and greeted the three new arrivals with a short nod.

"Any casualties?" Cúchulainn asked coolly.

Moody shook his head, enchanted eye fixed on the prisoners. "No. Navan?" He had noted Shacklebolt's absence.

"Two enemies captured," Cúchulainn paused, "four dead. No loss on our side." Mad-Eye whistled approvingly.

Black had found Lupin and was excitedly chatting away. "You should've seen it!" He exclaimed. "There was a big metal cow and Coal set it on _fire_ an' he took down a third of them before we got there-"

Cúchulainn jumped when a gentle hand touched his shoulder. Minerva smiled thinly and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Are you alright, Severus?"

"For now." The spy replied wearily. She gave him a reassuring pat.

"Sirius seems quite taken with you." The witch slyly commented. "Have you thought about...?"

"I have. I will tell him," he sighed. "Someday." He looked up at the bleached blue sky and squared his shoulders. "I should go," Cúchulainn said softly. "Minerva."

"Oi!" Sirius cried with faked anger. "You weren't going to run off without thanking me for saving you, right?" He marched over dramatically, unsuccessfully hiding a wide grin.

"Don't flatter yourself, Black," Cúchulainn grumbled with the faintest trace of amused fondness. "That curse wouldn't have killed me." His lip curved into a small half-smile and he bent down slightly to quietly add, "thank you." Sirius beamed and pulled Cúchulainn's head closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

There was absolute silence. Severus risked glancing at Minerva and secretly quailed under the force of her glare; she wasn't pleased that he hadn't told her. Lupin was grinning, happy for them, while Moody ignored the lot of them.

Cúchulainn frowned at Sirius. The dog animagus smiled shamelessly. The spy muttered a dark farewell and Apparated away.

Minerva was going to kill him.

* * *

 **Cú lapa in Irish means dog or hound paw. It has less poetic meanings in other languages.**

 **Someone wanted to know what the soup was made of in the previous chapter. People. It was made of people.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7- I am the sword in the darkness**

 **November 1**

Cúchulainn gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. He could feel a headache building like a thunderstorm. The Irish wizard opened his eyes and looked gravely down at the three bound students. The Weasley girl, Longbottom, and Lovegood peered up at him with wide, curious expressions.

"What," he growled deeply, "are you lot doing here?" He vanished the summoned ropes with a sharp snap of his fingers. The Gryffindor girl was the first to scramble to her feet.

"You're Lord Cúchulainn, aren't you?" She asked, awed. Cúchulainn raised an eyebrow impatiently. "Oh, er, well, we were wondering why there was never a friday m-" The redhead bit her tongue. She wouldn't have said even that much if she hadn't been thrown by the wizard's presence.

"He already knows about the DA," Granger reassured her. "You wanted to find out what we were doing every Friday?"

"If they know, they put all of us in danger," Cúchulainn said gravely.

"We won't tell anyone!" Longbottom protested. The Irish wizard glared down at the students.

"There are... _ways_ for someone to take your knowledge unwillingly." He told them darkly. Longbottom paled.

"Then why don't you train them too?" Potter challenged him. His green eyes glowed as he warmed up to the idea. "Ginny's family are part of the Order, and Luna and Neville are part of Dumbledore's Army. They should know how to defend themselves!"

Cúchulainn wrestled down the urge to snap at him for the disrespect. "If you feel so strongly about this, Mr Potter, why haven't _you_ taught your 'army' Occlumency?"

Potter opened and closed his mouth for a moment before forcefully emptying his face. "Shouldn't a master do it?" He retorted after a moment.

"Shouldn't a professor teach Defense?" Cúchulainn shot back. "I'm sure the three of you can manage."

"Please, professor?"

Severus tensed. Lovegood was watching him with a faint smile. _How the bloody hell does she do that?_ He wondered, exasperated. He knew it wasn't a simple respectful title and could catch the nearly hidden hard edge. _Please, professor, or I'll tell everyone here_. She was a bloody Augur herself, he was almost certain.

Cúchulainn chuckled, a touch annoyed, and shook his head. "I see. Very well, I will teach those here, but no-one else. If you are caught after curfew, you are on your own, and if any more students walk in I will stop training _everyone_." He wouldn't stay secret forever, but he just needed a little longer...

"Yessir!" The six students exclaimed.

* * *

Severus was on patrol when his arm began to burn. He had been expecting it.

The spy jogged to the gate and Apparated. When the spinning stopped, he looked around. His blood chilled in his veins when he recognized the Gaunt Manor. _Wonderful_ , he snarked weakly, _another test_.

Severus put on his mask and hurried to the Main Hall. He wasn't last, thankfully, but he had a dreadful suspicion that it wouldn't matter tonight; Voldemort would take his anger out on his follows regardless of what they did now.

The Dark Lord stormed into the room, his black robes billowing around him like a thundercloud. " _Bellatrix, Luciusss_ ," he hissed. The two purebloods crawled towards him on their knees, pressing their masked foreheads down on the hem of his robe. " _Crucio_!"

The screams echoed through the hall for a full ten minutes, reducing the writhing Death Eaters to sobbing, twitching robes. Voldemort's red eyes blazed, but he cancelled the curse before he drove two of his highest ranking followers to insanity. "Severus."

The Potions Master stepped over the crumpled witch and wizard. He knelt down and kissed his master's feet.

Voldemort didn't give him a moment to breath. " _Legilimens!_ " The powerful mental attack washed over Severus and he let it in. He caught a brief glimpse of Hogwarts before a memory took its place.

They were in his study. Severus was grading papers, pausing occasionally to cast a quick _tempus_. **October 31, 6:01, 6:47, 7:25, 8:34, 9:50**. Around eleven, he packed up the essays and turned in. Voldemort yanked at the memory, unwinding it in reverse. He tore through every day of his spy's life all the way back to October 8th, rifling meticulously back hour by hour. He found nothing.

Severus tried to open his eyes and felt his head spin sickeningly. His cheek was cold against the rough carpet. His mouth was thick with the cloying taste of blood. He had to pry open his jaw by hand to free his teeth from his tongue.

"Stand." Voldemort ordered softly. The Potions Master dragged himself laboriously to his feet and stood, swaying, before his master. His vision blurred and darkened from the effort, but he remained upright. "Are you loyal, Severus?"

"I am, my Lord." Severus croaked.

"Draw your wand."

Severus drew his old wand.

* * *

It was a small miracle he made it to Hogwarts without splinching himself. Severus stood at the gate for a few minutes, staring at his hand and attempting to remember how to use it. He eventually shoved it open, blindly stumbling towards the dungeons by muscle memory.

"...erus? Severus!"

The spy blinked muzzily and focused with difficulty on the hazy form of Poppy in front of him.

"Severus, look at me!" She ordered frantically, casting a quick diagnostic charm. "Oh, dear," she muttered under her breath. Mind magic was a delicate business, Severus knew, and Voldemort had mercilessly pulled away at the threads of his sanity. The Dark Lord must have been enraged over the failure to deal with Cúchulainn if he was willing to risk his spy's valuable head.

Poppy took the Potions Master's arm and tugged him towards the Hospital Wing. She guided him to a chair, biting her lip worriedly when he folded down without resistance.

Severus stared blankly at the wall. He was peripherally aware of the mediwitch bustling around the room.

"You are going to give me a heart-attack some day, Severus Snape," she groused as she furiously mixed powder in a steel mortar. She paused, waiting hopefully for his snide comeback, and went on after a moment, "potions alone won't help much, as I'm sure you know." She tapped the mortar with her wand and released a controlled stream of water until the contents were thin enough to drunk. "Open." Poppy commanded. The spy's mouth popped open instinctively and the healer tipped the potion down his throat before the listless obedience wore off.

Poppy watched the fog in Severus' black eyes thicken noticeably. The potion would let even an inexperienced Legilimens like her walk through his defenses without hurting him more than necessary. Severus had created it himself in case his Mental Fortress was ever damaged more than he could fix alone. Only he and Poppy knew exactly how to prepare it, and the recipe resided with the Potions Master alone.

The healer took a stabilizing breath. " _Legilimens_ ," she cast hesitantly.

Poppy opened her eyes and looked around, confused. She was still in the hospital wing, but there were small changes. Severus was gone, a few items had been moved, removed or added, and the beds had the minty green sheets of twenty years ago. The mediwitch popped her head out of the door and gasped. The hallways were scattered with detritus and there were gaping holes in the stone walls, floors and ceiling.

She wandered Hogwarts with morbid curiosity. The castle was in ruins, every surface not cratered or spell-burnt were covered in rubbish. The halls were empty of people or even portraits. The armoured suits had taken off. Poppy stepped out onto the grounds and stopped. The Forbidden Forest was burning, Hagrid's cabin had collapsed and, if she squinted, the mediwitch could make out the outline of a devastated Hogsmeade.

Poppy turned around and raced down to the dungeons. It was in slightly better condition, Severus defended them viciously, and even with the potion the witch couldn't get into his personal rooms.

"How do I fix this, Severus?" She asked the closed door despairingly. She felt tears prickle at the corner of her eyes and drew her wand with a growl. " _Reparo!_ " To the healer's delighted shock, the rubble on the ground rolled into the holes and sealed over seamlessly. Poppy grinned widely and ran through the building, casting the Mending Charm at every crack and pebble. When Hogwarts was finished, she headed for the Forbidden Forest.

There was a black owl roosting in a tree. It's golden eyes fixed on her from above and it hooted a small greeting.

"Severus?" Poppy nearly laughed. "I thought you were in the dungeon! Why did you lock up your quarters so tightly if you weren't in them?"

" _Exactly_." The owl replied softly.

"Clever." She raised her wand. " _Aqua Eructo!_ " A powerful stream of water shot up into the trees, extinguishing the flames with a damp hiss. The owl glided down and landed lightly on her shoulder as Poppy marched down towards Hogsmeade.

" _You don't need to-_ " The owl started. The witch cut him off with a snort.

"Shush, Severus, I want to help." She told him firmly. "Hogsmeade is the last place?"

"... _Yes_."

Poppy huffed but didn't challenge him. The spy needed to retain his independence, she knew, and he would be able to weave his walls back into place when she was done.

Hogsmeade had avoided the brunt of the damage. Poppy guessed that whatever _he_ had been looking for, it hadn't been in the village. It didn't take long to spell everything back into place with _reparo_. Poppy was about to leave when a building caught her eye. The Shrieking Shack.

The owl pulled her hair when she tried to step towards it. " _I will handle the rest._ " He said stiffly. Poppy brushed him off and walked stubbornly to the dilapidated building. Her hand had just touched the door when the world swirled painfully away.

Severus was standing when she opened her eyes again, an unreadable look in his cold black eyes.

Poppy winced and tensed her jaw. "I'm a mediwitch, Severus," she stated shrilly, "it is my duty to help in any way I can."

The spy stared at her silently.

She continued almost desperately. "I need to know what's wrong! If you won't tell me what happens, how can I- can I-" Poppy gritted her teeth.

"I killed a man tonight." Severus said impassively. "Can you bring him back to life?"

Poppy closed her eyes. "No. I can't."

"Then what use is there in telling you?"

She opened her eyes to glare at him. "So you aren't alone, Severus!" She cried angrily. "You don't have to be alone!" The Potions Master looked away. He was of a different opinion. Poppy focused on her breathing for a minute, calming down. "You're staying here tonight." She ordered, pointing at private room door.

Severus watched her for a few second. "Fine."

The door swung open slightly with a creek and Albus poked his head around the corner, ready to duck. "Are you alright, my boy?" He asked with a concerned frown. Severus nodded sharply and waved for him to come in.

"Oh, no you aren't!" Poppy protested. "Mediwitch's orders, Severus is going straight to bed. He can report in the morning."

"It'll only be a moment, I promise," Albus chuckled, walking over. "I would never get between a healer and her patient. Severus?"

"Bellatrix and Lucius were punished for their failure. The Dark Lord searched my memories and my cover is intact. An unknown Muggle was executed." Severus reported with clinical coldness.

The headmaster sighed mournfully. "I see. Nothing could be done?"

Poppy nearly leapt at Dumbledore. "No, _Headmaster_ , nothing could be done! One man against You-Know-Who and his most powerful followers? You've had your report and it is my professional opinion that we should all get some sleep." She said, placing a protective hand on the professor's shoulder.

Albus held up his hands in an attempt to mollify the witch. "I apologize, Poppy, I should have thought more carefully about what I was saying. I understand not everyone can be saved and it is in no way your fault." He directed the last statement to his spy. "Now, it is quite late. Thank you, Severus, Poppy. Goodnight." He smiled to them both and left.

"Bed." Poppy said determinedly. "Now."

Severus grumbled but let the short witch usher him to the private room.

* * *

 **November 2**

Severus clapped politely as the Slytherin Quidditch team rose into the air. Madame Hooch blew her whistle, throwing the Quaffle. Minerva shuffled closer and Severus closed his eyes with a sigh.

"Severus Tobias Snape, I could kill you!" She hissed into his ear. The rest of the staff wouldn't be able to hear her quiet angry words over the roar of the crowd. "How long?"

"... Since October 7," he replied reluctantly. The Deputy Headmistress swelled up like an enraged cat.

"You- for nearly a _month_ -" she sputtered helplessly. Minerva's words failed her and she swatted his shoulder viciously a few times. Albus glanced at them but looked away when she glared back. "Don't you think it's unfair to yourself and him?" She asked, a frown on her strict face. "I understand, Severus, you needed someone, but-"

"Minerva," Severus growled. The witch huffed, unimpressed.

" _But_ ," she continued mercilessly, "you can't keep lying to him. Either you tell him, or..."

The Potions Master stared impassively out into the Quidditch field, tracking Draco's fluttering black robe dive through the snow. "I know." He said softly. Minerva patted his forearm sympathetically.

The witch paused and jumped towards the railing to squint at the players. "They've spotted the Snitch!" She cried. Severus grinned slightly at her incredibly Gryffindor tactic of distraction and watched the Seekers soar in the sleet. "Potter's got it!"

Crabbe appeared through the blizzard and brought his Beater's club sharply across the back of Potter's head. The stands shook with the furious clamor of protests and cheers. Both house heads leaned over the railing, wands raised.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

" _Arresto Momentum!_ "

Potter slowed to a stop and was gently lowered to the cold, wet ground. Hooch swooped on Crabbe, furiously blowing her whistle while the Gryffindor team descended around Potter. Draco hovered over them, his words indistinct, and the Weasley twins attempted to drag the broom down. Potter stumbled to his feet, knocked the other boy to the ground and began hitting the Slytherin.

"Oh, sweet Merlin, what now?" Minerva grumbled and tore off down the stairs.

Albus took her vacant seat. "Why was Minerva so upset with you, Severus?" He asked with a grandfatherly smile and an almost pitying pat on the hand. Dumbledore knew better than to directly bring up anything that happened at a Death Eater meeting.

"Friendly staff rivalry," Severus told him dryly, "and a very sharp tongue." The headmaster chuckled.

"Are you going out today, my boy? A day off seems to be very good for you." His wise blue eyes twinkled. The snarky young Potions Master's sudden change in temperament had been the talk of the school. "Perhaps all of the professors would benefit from a weekly break."

"You'll hear no protests from us, I assure you." He wouldn't have to keep coming up with excuses, at least. "I'm calling a house meeting and heading out."

* * *

The meeting was longer than he thought it would be, and the sun had already set by the time Cúchulainn walked unannounced into Grimmauld Place. Black wasn't in the kitchen, sitting room, or dining room. He frowned and checked the bedroom.

"Sirius?" Cúchulainn called, stepping into the dark room. There was a frantic _clink_ of glass and the quick _thump_ of something charging. The Irish wizard braced himself and just barely maintained his balance when Padfoot crashed into him. The massive dog wrapped his paws around the man's shoulders, whimpering plaintively. "Blessed Avalon, Padfoot, what's wrong?"

The animagus shifted into his human form and buried his face in Cúchulainn's neck. "I'm sorry, okay!" He nearly wailed, frustrated and upset.

The spy tried to pry Sirius' arms from his neck. The other man's breath stunk of whiskey and the smell made Severus' head spin. "Calm down, Sirius," he ordered, bemused. "What are you on about? I'm just a few hours late!"

"You're a-angry with me," Black sniffled miserably, tightening his hold.

"I'm not angry with you, Sirius." Cúchulainn growled. His back was starting to hurt from the uncomfortable angle Sirius was forcing it in.

"You _sound_ angry!"

" _I'm not_ -" Cúchulainn cut himself off and drew a slow, deep breath. "I am not angry, Sirius." He reassured him patiently. "What is this about?" He half-carried Black into his room and pushed the drunk man down onto his bed. The room was warm and musty, it stunk overwhelmingly of whiskey.

"I thought," Black rubbed his face with a dazed look, "I thought you were upset 'cause I didn't talk to you about letting anyone else know before-"

"It's okay, Sirius." Cúchulainn said softly.

"But you didn't come over-"

"I was busy-"

"An' I waited but you still didn't-"

"I-"

"An' then I started drinking-"

Cúchulainn caught Black's chin and pulled him into a firm kiss, muffling the other man's drunken babbling. His nose wrinkled at the taste of alcohol but he didn't pull back until he was sure Sirius would let him talk uninterrupted.

"It's okay, Sirius." He repeated, moving his hand to cup Black's cheek. "It was... unexpected, but I'm not mad. You could announce our relationship to the entire order and I wouldn't be angry. I have nothing to be ashamed of."

Well, Cúchulainn had nothing to be ashamed of.

"Bu-but you weren't here-"

"I was _busy_ , Sirius. I will try to send a message if it happens again," Cúchulainn promised. The dog animagus finally calmed somewhat and leaned against him. The Irish wizard wrapped one arm around him and rubbed his shoulder with difficulty.

"You're'n't _too_ busy, are you?" Sirius mumbled sleepily into his chest. He was hardly awake, but forced his eyes open long enough to stare intently up at Cúchulainn.

"I'll never be _that_ busy," Cúchulainn grumbled. "I've seen the trouble you get up to if you're left alone."

Sirius smiled and curled up closer. Severus waited until the breathing dropped into a whistling snore before drawing his blackthorn wand and whispering, " _Aλκοόλειςνερό._ " A rush of magic swept through the building. The Potions Master sniffed the air and was relieved that the stink of whiskey had faded nearly to nothing.

Severus grinned wickedly and settled down. He had Black's miserably sober headache and future annoyance to look forwards to. He drifted off listening to Sirius' comforting quiet snuffle.

...

He smelt blood. It clung to the back of his throat, coated his tongue, filled his lungs until he choked. It broiled inside him and the spy broke out in a feverish sweat. Severus jerked awake and took gulping breaths of stale air.

Sirius stirred, tightening his hold over the other man's chest. "Coal?" He murmured, half-asleep. He struggled up until he could see Cúchulainn's scarred face in the darkness. "Y'r'al'ight?"

The Irish wizard soothed him by carding his hand through Black's hair. "I'm fine, go back to sleep." Sirius blinked slowly a few times, barely conscious.

" 'S this 'bout the Death Eaters?" He asked eventually. Sirius was a bit more sober and wiggled closer to kiss Cúchulainn's neck reassuringly. "They aren't worth it. They'd've killed us."

Cúchulainn made a neutral sound and closed his eyes. He could feel the dog animagus' gaze on him for a while before snoring filled the bedroom.

The Potions Master couldn't sleep again and instead watched Black's chest rise and fall. After a few hours, Severus slipped out of the bed and left on silent feet. He made it to his rooms near five in the morning without being seen.

" _Mrrrw_?"

Severus looked down blearily at his feet. A dignified grey tabby with distinctive markings around her eyes sat by his door, ears pinned disapprovingly. The Potions Master cast a quick spell for privacy.

"We didn't do anything, if that's what you think." He told her with a trace of annoyance. "He's a cuddly drunk." The cat scoffed and gracefully changed her form.

"Hagrid's back," Minerva said stiffly. "There will be an Order meeting in three hours."

"Thank y-" The old witch marched out and waved the door forcefully shut behind her.

Severus shook his head at the closed door. Minerva couldn't forgive him until he told Black the truth. He was tempted the longer they spent together. Sirius wasn't quite the spoiled arse he remembered and Severus was... fond of him.

The spy told himself it was self preservation. Get in good with the Gryffindors in case he was ever captured or outed. Severus didn't want to be alone in the midst of a war again.

But things were getting more personal. It was always hard to remember who he was before he put on the mask, both figurative and literal, and Severus wasn't sure how much the line between using Black and liking Black blurred.

Severus finally understood how Lily could love Potter.

* * *

 **November 3**

Severus smirked internally when he heard Sirius curse and slam another cupboard door. The sound aggravated Black's pounding head and he moaned pathetically.

The Order were in the dining room, waiting for Severus and Molly to finish putting together breakfast. Sirius had wandered towards the sink in a daze, stumbled his way through making tea without noticing the others, and had started searching fruitlessly through the cupboards for the hair of the dog that utterly shagged him before spotting the spy stirring a cauldron of porridge. Molly had ducked into the pantry for eggs.

Sirius dropped his mug, wincing as the crash twinged painfully through his head. "What the hell are you doing here?" He barked.

Severus tapped the lip of the cauldron with his wooden spoon. "Helping Molly with breakfast." He replied evenly. Black scowled and, with visible effort, left without insulting the Potions Master. The Weasley Matron stepped out of the pantry with a basket of eggs in time to see the dog animagus disappear into the dining room.

"Picking fights already, Severus?" Molly asked, cracking a dozen eggs into a big bowl with a flick of her wand and spelling the whisk to beat the eggs vigorously. She continued without waiting for a reply. "Go on, sit down, I can handle the rest."

Severus obeyed immediately. He knew better than to argue with Molly Weasley. The Potions Master cleaned Black's fallen cup with a lazy gesture as he stepped over it and sat at the table between Minerva and Albus. Kreacher was serving tea, sneering at Sirius and wiggling his ears respectfully when Severus accepted a mug with a quiet thanks.

Remus was rubbing Sirius' shoulder comfortingly while the man groaned into the table. "Hey, Severus, do you have a Hangover potion on you?" He asked politely over his friend's noise.

"No, I don't." Severus answered a touch louder than he needed to. Minerva rolled her eyes at him.

Black lifted his head with difficulty. "Look, Snape, just give me a goddamn potion," he snarled lowly, glaring at the Potions Master through red eyes.

"I don't have a Hangover Potion on me, Black, I don't drink." Severus told him, annoyed. "I can give you some poison."

"Someone's in a mood. Bitter over your probation?" Black laughed mockingly. "What'd you do to get on Umbridge's bad side, anyway? 'Failure to perform'? Tried to flirt your way up to headmaster and made her sick?"

Minerva snorted and Severus glared at her. "Oh, no, no, Severus! I'm not- What did you say to her during dinner the other day?" By the twinkle in her eye, she had already guessed.

"I told her I would make her life a living hell if she touched me again." Severus said impassively and took a sip of his tea. The room fell silent.

"You _didn't_." Tonks sniggered. "No wonder you were put on probation, professor!"

"Severus, really," Albus scolded him with a well-hidden trace of amusement. "I asked all of the staff to be polite towards Dolores for the duration of her stay at Hogwarts."

"I would have been, if she had kept her hands to herself." Severus snapped. "Shall I lodge a complaint and wait two-to-three weeks for it to be officially burned in a wastebasket?" It reminded him sickeningly of Beatrix and the Dark Lord. Some people tried to snuggle up to power, and perhaps Umbridge had thought she would be safe from the Death Eaters if she was in the spy's good graces.

Just in case. Severus could understand it. It was still revolting.

"Perhaps we should start the meeting," Lupin suggested as Molly stepped in, levitating an enormous breakfast onto the table.

Hagrid began between massive mouthfuls of honeyed porridge. "Death Eaters' got th're first." He told them sadly. "The new chief's happy ter see 'em, but me 'n Maxime," he smiled slightly when he said her name, "we found the ol' chief's supports hol'd up in some caves. They seemed inter'sted, but the others must're seen us and clean'd out the caves when we'd gone. Weren't many survivors, an' none o' them wanted anythin' t'do with us after that." He finished with a sigh.

Moody went next. "Houndspaw was a success. Lupin got a minor wound on his hand," the old Auror nodded at the werewolf across the table, "no-one else injured. Three captured, one committed suicide in prison with a muggle poison. Snape?"

"Cyanide, most likely. Some of the higher ranking Death Eaters keep a pill spelled to the inside of their cheek in case they are captured." Severus briefly explained. He had laughed about that sometimes; he had a portkey tooth filling instead. Of course, it was only useful if there wasn't an anti-portkey ward set up.

"Would've been nice if you'd mentioned it before." Mad-Eye grumbled sourly. "The other two didn't tell us anything we didn't know already."

"Navan went well, though we did little." Shacklebolt chuckled. "That Cúchulainn fellow had killed four of them and knocked out another. Minerva and I captured two and the rest fled. No injuries on our part, though a metal bull was caught on fire and knocked some teeth out of our prisoners. The prisoners knew about a safe house in Dublin, but we had raided it a few weeks before. They didn't tell us anything else useful. Might've been they were chosen because they knew nothing."

Severus reluctantly began his report. "The Dark Lord knows what Cúchulainn and his wand look like, his age, and his nationality. I have found out nothing about the important and vague dark artifacts I was told to find," he looked balefully at Dumbledore. "The attack on Halloween was intended to capture or kill Cúchulainn, Lucius and Bellatrix were punished for the failure. A Muggle, male, bald, late forties, was executed."

Moody scowled. "Who killed him?"

"I did." Severus answered stonily.

"Oh, Severus, you didn't!" Molly gasped, horrified. The spy sipped his tea and didn't reply.

Albus cleared his throat, attracting the table's attention. "Severus and I have already spoken about this and I assure you, if something could have been done for the man, Severus would have done it." The headmaster said calmly. "If there is nothing else, Molly has prepared a wonderful breakfast for us."

"Severus, I'm sorry about earlier." Minerva murmured quietly to the spy. "If you need to talk to me, whenever, for whatever reason..."

"Thank you, Minerva, but I'm fine." He replied, trying not to feel annoyed over the offer.

Sirius had struggled into a proper sitting position and was mechanically chewing dry toast, eyes half-closed. "Cúchulainn and I are dating." He said casually. Severus dropped his tea cup into his lap.

"Congrats." Moody grunted through a mouthful of eggs. "Anything _useful_ to add?"

"No, no, just wanted to brag." Black grinned, slightly more alive.

"Hmm. Then shut up."

"Have you asked Cúchulainn if you could tell everyone, Sirius?" She asked sternly, cleaning up her college's spilled tea with a quick _scourgify_.

"Yeah, we talked last night. He said he didn't care if I told the whole order." Black told her happily. Severus had seriously underestimated the man's ability to remember conversations while sloshed out of his skull. Well, maybe he could use this. The Order would trust him more.

"Good for you two." She commented dryly.

Severus excused himself after a few minutes of the Order's mindless chatter. He heard Black's chair scrape back loudly and sighed. He valued his pride too highly to run for the door and resigned himself to another fight.

"Snape, we need to talk." The dog animagus grabbed his arm and pulled him past the exit. When he was sure they were alone, he released the spy. "I don't think you're loyal to the Order." He spat.

"Not loyal?" Severus repeated in disbelief. "Black, I have _killed_ for the blasted Order!" His voice rose with every word. "I have been tortured and abused, wasted years of my life for the _goddamn Order!_ " The spy roared, something snapping inside at the accusation. "Not loyal? Have you considered what my life would be like if I wasn't a spy?"

Black quickly recovered. "You'd be a greasy no-body living in his mother's basement?" He guessed snidely.

"I was offered an apprenticeship with Nicolas Flamel, Black, his _last_ apprentice, but I refused it because Dumbledore wanted me to protect Harry _bloody_ Potter from _you!_ " Severus balled his hands into trembling fists. Even so long after the fact, it was painful to entertain how things would have been if he could have gone. "I have given _everything_ to the Order. What have you sacrificed? Your house?"

"I was in Azkaban for eleven years!" Sirius bellowed.

"You could have escaped at any time and you know it!" Severus countered. "Is that what Lily and Potter would have wanted you to do, lie down in a prison cell and wallow in self-pity without knowing what had become of your godson?" He had been expecting the punch this time and caught it with ease, twisting Black's arm up behind his shoulder. The spy rammed his knee into the back of Black's leg and pinned him to the ground. "You are incapable of growing up, aren't you?"

"I have grown up!" Sirius protested.

"Prove it," Severus hissed in his ear.

"I'm sorry for nearly killing you in fifth year!" Sirius yelled abruptly. The Potions Master released him.

"It's about bloody time," Severus grumbled to hide his surprise. He pulled the other wizard up by the back of his robes and brushed him off with a flick of his wand. "I forgive you."

"You- what?" Sirius gaped. The spy rolled his eyes dramatically. "I mean, you've been pissed about it for twenty years- really? Just like that?" Rather more than twenty years, now, and many, many people had made attempts on his life since.

"Yes, Black, just like that. It doesn't take much. Now if you'll excuse me..." Severus stepped around the stunned dog animagus and strode away.

That will be sure to drive Black crazy.

* * *

 **November 9**

Cúchulainn stood over Sirius with a dark expression, arms folded over his chest. The other man wiggled in the kitchen chair uncomfortably.

"You said you wouldn't be angry if I told everyone." Black desperately pointed out. Cúchulainn raised an eyebrow. "We talked about it before I did it this time!" Sirius waited hopefully for a reassuring reply. "And- and I have nothing to be ashamed of." Cúchulainn's lip pulled into a reluctant, semi-annoyed smile and Sirius grinned in reply. He tugged the Irish wizard down onto a chair and kissed him. "Are we good?" Black asked optimistically.

Cúchulainn sighed, "We're good."

Sirius beamed. "Could we go out today? You know, a traditional date, dinner and a show and maybe the dog park?" He joked.

Severus opened his mouth to grumble out a yes when his arm twinged. He shut his mouth with a click and clenched his hands tightly for a moment before sighing, defeated. "We are good," he repeated reassuringly, unsuccessfully smothering a note of disappointment, "but I have to go and I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"You- what?" Sirius was worried now. "You aren't.. _leaving_?"

Severus met the other wizard's blue eyes briefly before looking away again. "I'll be back," he said hollowly, "but not today." The pain from the Mark was growing worse and he was beginning to sweat. The spy stood, dodging Black's attempt to grab his arm.

Cúchulainn didn't dare look back until the door swung shut behind him and he stood alone in the rain. He tilted his head back, watching the bruised yellow clouds scuttle across the polluted sky. Cúchulainn closed his eyes and Apparated as the door opened behind him a heartbeat too late.

* * *

"Approach, Severus." The Dark Lord ordered softly. The tip of his wand was visible peeking from his sleeve. The Potions Master's mouth went dry. He had been told to find the Augur months ago- had his master grown weary of his failure?

Snape's terror built with every inch. Some inner alarm rang so hard it nearly vibrated his bones. Voldemort wouldn't put up with a single useless word now.

It didn't seem fair. He couldn't die now, not after coming so far, not after telling Black he'd come back.

"What have you to report, my spy?"

Severus swallowed with difficulty, black eyes fixed on the wand tip. He was going to die. Something occurred to the Professor looking at Voldemort's threatening sleeve; he couldn't set up a trap, but he could spring one. "I have discovered Cúchulainn's location, my lord." He rasped. Voldemort's inhumane face split into an approving smile and he gestured for him to continue. "He frequents the Hill of Tara in County Meath. A member of the Order was sent there near the end of summer."

Voldemort folded his hands and straightened, head tilted thoughtfully. "Thank you, Severus. I never lost faith in you." He waved for Snape to rejoin the relative safety of the assembled Death Eaters. He didn't dare breath again until he was hidden from sight among the comparatively comforting press of the other robes. The Potions Master thanked the blank masks because he wasn't sure how impassive he could keep his face at that moment.

How many close calls would he have left? Severus had to deal finish what he came back for soon.

"Crabbe, Goyle, Gibbon." The Dark Lord called his servants forwards. "A word. The rest are dismissed."

Severus retreated without being detained. The three Voldemort had called on where not clever, but they were loyal.

What mattered was that they weren't terribly powerful either. The Dark Lord either intended to test Cúchulainn with men whose captures or deaths wouldn't impact him greatly, or more likely, Voldemort was certain he could defeat the Irish wizard alone.

It didn't matter. Severus didn't intend to report this particular conversation to the Order. Cúchulainn had to be at the Hill of Tara, and he had to be alone, or the Dark Lord would turn his wand again on his spy.

* * *

 **November 16th**

The spy had been on edge all week. His wards would tell him when Voldemort approached the Hill of Tara, but they hadn't chimed at all. Had the Dark Lord dismantled them without him noticing? Severus doubted it, but Voldemort could not be underestimated.

Severus had expected the attack at night, to better fit Voldemort's flare for theatrics, but it was Sunday morning when the alarms rang.

Cúchulainn cursed, long and low and darkly. His hand was on the door to HQ.

He couldn't put it off. The Dark Lord had to see Cúchulainn, even if it was only for a moment.

The spy glared at the door and vanished. He didn't intend to be gone long.

Cúchulainn landed with his wand at hand, whirling in place. He didn't see anyone on the Hill.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose as a brutish growl reached his ears. Something slunk along the long grass, yellow eyes glowing.

Fenrir Greyback. Two nights off the full moon and still full of vim and vinegar. The Irish wizard hadn't been expecting to see him.

The werewolf leaped towards Cúchulainn and was sent flying with a slash of his wand. He couldn't leave until he had seen-

The spy dropped to the ground without conscious thought as a flash of green light streamed over his head, leaving his skin numb. He had missed death by a hair. Greyback's renewed snarling and snapping reminded Cúchulainn that there was more than one enemy.

He rolled to his feet again and cast instinctively at Greyback as he rushed him again. _"Tesuriit!"_ The green lawn of the Hill sucked Greyback greedily down into the earth. The struggling werewolf was buried up to his tipped ears. Cúchulainn hoped mercilessly that he suffocated.

Ribbons of green streamed over the long grass and made the Irish wizard sweat as he conjured a storm of panicking white birds. He knew the three death eaters were hiding somewhere in that direction, spitting death at him while Voldemort-

That was enough! _"Faigh dom an ifreann as anseo!"_ Cúchulainn shouted quickly. His ring gleamed and the portkey yanked him away.

The spy landed in the Black Forest and immediately Apparated to a random landing. He jumped from place to place until he was sure he couldn't be followed.

Voldemort had been setting up an anti-portkey ward. Severus knew it in his bones. That had been far too close.

* * *

 **αλκοόλειςνερό is, vaguely, alcohol to water in greek. Tesuriit is from t** **erra, latin for earth, and esuriit, meaning 'hungry'.**

 **Sorry I was gone so long. Personal stuff that doesn't really matter and is ongoing so I won't be writing much.**

 **Star, if you read this and see any problems with my Irish, go ahead and tell me please. I'm using Google Translate. And no, the way I write** **Cúchulainn is not up for debate. :T**


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